


A man’s soul

by JillianK



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-02-10 16:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 28,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JillianK/pseuds/JillianK
Summary: AU.  Claire is a widow with a young son in colonial North Carolina.  Jamie is a mistreated indentured slave with a very painful past.  When Jamie’s master falls on hard times, Claire must consider something she never thought she would.





	1. Chapter 1

The brisk wind of the early afternoon indicated that the first chill of winter would not be too far off.  
Claire sighed and tied her thick blue shawl a little closer to her body. Winters were never easy even in this part of the world. 

At least they were likely prepared. They had spent summer and autumn jarring and drying as much as they were able to do. Their larders and storehouses were bursting with the fruit of their labors. Her patients could also be counted on providing the odd rabbit and squirrel for her services. It would be more than enough for her and her son.

She wondered where Fergus was. He’d left after lunch to check on his snares and set some new ones. The thirteen year old was determined to fulfill his duties as man of the house. Frank’s passing almost four years ago had been especially hard on their adopted son who decided at the tender age of nine that he needed to provide for his mother. She was so very proud of him but worried that he was taking on too much too early and setting aside his childhood before he should have. 

She also regretted that the remoteness of their homestead did not allow for much companionship. Fergus did not have many friends besides a couple of older boys in town and of course there was also Jamie.

A familiar pang settled in her heart whenever she thought of Jamie. Her son had made friends with the man last winter when the latter had gotten so sick that his master had called upon her services to help him. She and Fergus had been appalled at the condition they found him. He was kept in a tiny wooden shed adjacent to the stables. The structure had no means of heating and it could be locked from the outside making it obvious that it was not a room but a cell. The inside had a dirt floor, a rickety cot with a lumpy straw mattress and a rusted bucket besides an upturned crate. There was no source of light except for the beams of sunshine that came through the uneven wooden planks in the walls and ceiling. 

When Claire entered the gloomy place she’d expected filth and acrid scents but there were none besides the slightly sweet smell of sickness emanating from Jamie’s body. Even the bucket had been rinsed and the floor swept. Jamie refused to live like the animal his master wanted him reduced to. 

The man himself was lying in his cot with only a ragged blanket wrapped around his body. Claire noted almost immediately that he was burning with fever. His thin face was flushed and his bloodless lips were cracked and peeling. 

Jamie’s hair was a dark russet and lay in sweaty, tangled curls. It was a shade lighter than the beard that covered most of his face. A fine nose and well shaped eyebrows made up the rest of his visage. His eyes were closed. 

Fergus placed the oil lamp he’d been carrying onto the crate to give his mother enough light to examine her patient. Claire pushed aside the collar of the heavily mended shirt he wore to expose his throat and chest area. A quick count told her that his pulse was thankfully normal however his breathing was labored and wet. 

“Is it la grippe?” Fergus asked being familiar with the disease’s attack on the respiratory system. 

Claire shook her head and listened to his chest. “With this much congestion inflammation of the lungs is likely. Good God how is expected to deal with the cold in this place”. 

“I think Monsieur Murchison treats Jamie very badly. I don’t think he feeds him anything good either.” Fergus said sadly. 

That much was made obvious by the man’s worrying thinness. His hands and arms were work worn and the wrists were only skin stretched over bone with no fat at all. There was faint scarring circling both of them and Claire shuddered to think of how much time Jamie had lived shackled and bound. Fergus had told her he’d spent nearly a decade in an English prison before being transported to North Carolina as an indentured slave.

Murchison had bought Jamie right off the boat from England. The tall, strong, red headed Scot must have seemed like a good investment to the upstart planter. Fergus had told her that he’d wasted no time in working Jamie to the breaking point. Hours upon hours the man was seen toiling in Murchison’s fields through the intense North Carolina heat with very little sustenance and no protection from the sun. Jamie did his best but was punished often and harshly for any misdeed real or imagined. 

The cruelty sickened her. Jamie may have been a convict but he was a human being and deserved to be treated better. She resolved to help him. “Fergus, tell Mr Murchison that Jamie needs to be moved to the house where it is warmer and there is and a bed to lie in. He cannot manage to heal in this horrendous place.” 

The boy nodded eagerly. “Yes mama”

When he was gone Claire set about opening the man’s shirt to reveal his chest. She sighed softly at the shrunken and bony appearance. She could tell that he had been beautifully sculpted at some point but now there was nothing but wasted muscle. 

“You don’t get to eat any meat do you. Probably just porridge and bread. How does he expect you to live on so little.” Her fingertips caressed his warm brow softly. 

She gasped when his eyes fluttered and opened. In the lamplight they were of unknown color but glassy with fever. 

“Jenny?” He asked softly. His voice was thin and rough with disuse. “Jenny…is that ye mo chridhe?”

She wiped his brow gently with a soft cloth. “It isn’t Jenny. It’s mrs. Randall.. the healer and I’m here to help you get better”

He lifted his left hand from his blanket and laid it gently on the side of her face. His touch was tender like that of a child but his words grew frantic. “I’m sorry… so sorry Jenny. Please forgive me.”he sobbed.

This would not be helping. “Jamie calm down. You are hallucinating due to the high fever”

His breath grew even more labored as his eyes swept the miserable room unseeing. “Jenny the redcoats are coming for me.. I canna stay here lass. I canna … risk ye”

“Jamie The redcoats are not coming. Jenny’s is not here. She’s safe.” Jenny was probably his sweetheart or his wife.  
He pushed her hand away and tried to lift himself with his arms only to fall back onto the cot weakly. “No. No you’re lying. They took her. I saw them… she wouldn’t let them get to me. I heard the shot…. God I heard it. Ian was screaming” The sobs were strangled with congestion. Claire tried to help him up to clear his airways. He couldn’t support his weight so she sat on his bed and lifted his torso to her lap. She gasped at the scars from the whip. At some point he’d been scourged. The latticework of cruelty made her want to cry but all she could do was hold him. He was surprisingly light but his distress made it hard for her to keep him steady

“Hush Jamie. Just rest or you will feel worse.”

At last his movements seized and he succumbed to a quiet crying. Claire held him close. Something in her heart ached terribly at Jamie’s plight. It was almost as if she could share his pain. At last the tears gave gave to a troubled sleep. Claire breathed a sigh of relief. Poor man.

“Mama?” Came from the doorway. Fergus looked on them despondently.

“Yes love.”

“Monsieur Murchison said that trash like Jamie does not belong in a proper house and that he is lucky that he doesn’t sleep in the stables with the goats.”

Her heart broke at the injustice of it all and for a minute she did not know what to do. Jamie’s form lay still in her arms. She took comfort in it. She would help him no matter what it took.

At the end she ended up nursing him in that tiny, cold room. Fergus brought their warmest blankets and built a fire just outside so that she could brew her medicinal herbs which she fed him regularly alongside some thick bone broth which he took automatically and without opening his eyes. 

With care and sustenance. Jamie’s breathing finally regulated and his coughing lessened. At last he awoke in early afternoon on the sixth day. His eyes were clear from the fever and set upon her with wonder.

“Mistress Randall?” He asked softly. 

Claire smiled reassuringly “Hello Jamie. You gave us quite a scare.”

“I dinna understand. Why are you here with me mistress?”

“You were very sick. Mr Murchison sent for me when you could not be roused. Do you feel better?”

“Aye and thank ye I know this isna any place for a lady.”

“This isn’t any place for you either. I asked Mr Murchison to let us move you indoors but he denied my request.”

He nodded and his gaze dropped to the floor before her. “It doesn’t matter. I am grateful to ye for your kindness.”

“You are very welcome. I’m leaving some turmeric paste and a pot of ginger tea for later. I made you some vegetable soup and a bit of boiled chicken. Make sure you eat both. I do not want you losing anymore weight. “

She set out to gather her things in preparation of leaving. She and Fergus had made a bed of blankets on a corner of the room and she put those together to place in their cart outside.

“Dinna go. Please mistress dinna leave yet“ he pleaded gently. 

She stopped midway and turned towards him. He laid in his cot swaddled under her best blankets looking very much like a lost child. A wave of tenderness swept over her. He’d been starved for so long and not only for food. 

“ it’s okay Jamie, I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. It’s just that you are stable now and Fergus needs his bed.” Her hand went to the tangled curls that were standing at an end. She smoothed them down and he curled towards her seeking further contact. For a brief second she wondered what he would do if she were to press her lips against his.

She came back a few more times but soon enough Jamie was back in the fields and at his master’s heel. Fergus often sought him out for advice on hunting and Jamie was always willing to guide him. It was he that taught Fergus how to set snares and how to shoot Frank’s gun to bring down ducks and geese. She was very grateful to him and always made sure Fergus took him food whenever he went to visit. Her son would tell her that he would devour these meals like a starving man which she supposed he was.

She would see him sometimes as she made her way to some neighbors who needed her medical assistance. He would stop whatever he was doing and come to greet her. Claire could not help but notice the way his eyes gleamed whenever they chanced upon her. She thought that maybe her eyes shone the same.

And now as another winter set upon them she worried that he would sicken again in that cold shed. Even with her meals he’d grown even thinner and looked exhausted almost all the time. His poor condition was a constant weight in her heart

As the sky darkened she looked out the window with growing concern. Fergus would never be this late. He was much too considerate of her feelings for that.

At last she heard his filly’s familiar neigh and she let go of the breath she’d been holding. He’d better have a good explanation for worrying her so.

She did not have to wait long before her son rushed in. He was out of breath and clearly upset over something. 

“Fergus what has happened?”

“C’est terrible maman!”

It must have been bad for him to forget his English. “Tell me now what has happened.”

Fergus took a deep breath. “It’s Jamie mama. Mr Murchinson is going to sell him tomorrow”

TBC


	2. Chapter two

It only took her only one night to make the decision that changed their world forever. 

Years later she would shudder to think what would have happened to them if she had not chosen to go against her deeply held principles and bought him as one would a farm beast. Where would her Jamie be? Where would she be without him?

It was Fergus who managed to overcome her reluctance. Jamie was his friend and had acted as a father figure many times sharing the knowledge that Frank would have passed on had he had the chance. Fergus had grown to care for Jamie and was deeply afraid for him. 

His status as a convict made Jamie particularly vulnerable. Those that had chosen indentured servitude as a passage to the new world had some protections that were not afforded Jamie. Most importantly the average period of indenture was seven years. Jamie’s was twenty five. She knew that it was very likely he would die in bondage. 

That morning she took her offer to Murchinson who needed little urging in accepting. It was a respectable sum and Jamie’s current physical condition would not garner him any better at auction. As property Jamie was damaged goods.

There was still some documentation to process and funds to exchange. He would be turned over to her at the end of the week. 

She took the time to set up a room for him. She and Fergus aired out Frank’s old study and pushed the shelves back to accomodate a large bed she stored for patients that came to her. She cleared a chest of drawers and added some of Frank’s shirts and breeches for Jamie’s to use. She made a note of taking him to the cobbler to measure his feet for sturdy boots. She would buy him a warm coat and knit him gloves and a scarf.

At last everything was ready and all she had to do was wait and keep Fergus from expiring from excitement. 

At around noon both mother and son heard an unfamiliar horse plodding up their path. Fergus squealed like a child and rushed out of the house only to stop in their doorway petrified at the sight before him.

Murchinson had fettered Jamie’s hands and tied a rope around them securing him to his saddle as one would do for a beast of burden. The convict had been pulled for almost three miles in such a fashion and was limping from a foot that he’d tied a rag around to protect.

He had no coat but the blanket she had given him last year wrapped about his thin form. He was shivering even through his struggle to keep up with his master’s mount.

She longed to run to him and tell him that he would never again be humiliated and hurt. That he would never be punished and treated so brutally. That she would protect him and keep him safe from now on.

“Get those things off of him now” she ordered with as much disdain as she could muster. Jamie flinched but Murchinson smiled malevolently. 

“Are you certain you don’t want to keep them? He hates being tied up and they are good to threaten him with. They kept him in fetters the entire time he was at Ardsmuir, all ten years. Betcha that drove him insane.”

She was too disgusted to reply.

“No? Well I offered.” Murchinson leapt down his horse and walked towards the slave. “Well Jamie boy time to see you to a new master... err mistress. Cannot say that I will not miss you. You suffer so prettily.”

Jamie did not lift his eyes from the ground as he was set free. Claire could see the wounds in his wrists where he’d been pulled too strongly by the horse. Murchison took him by the arm to stand before Claire and Fergus. He handed her the bill of sale and his ownership papers. “Well he’s now all yours. He is a strong lad even thought he does not look it. Feel free to use the whip on him. He has some bad history with it.” 

He got up onto his horse and rode away leaving Jamie standing before his mistress. He would not meet her questing eyes. Shame burned in his dirtied face.

Fergus broke the impasse and went to hug his friend. Jamie gasped and ever so slowly put his arm around the boy. Claire could not help the tears at the sight.

“It’s okay Jamie. You’re home.”

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words. I apologize for any mistakes as I am writing this using my phone from the hospital (surgery long story). I would also like to thank my new friend hydromorphone. I have six weeks of medical leave so expect regular chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

He stood there not knowing what to do and how to act. She said that he was home but Jamie had no home.

Jamie had lost any hope of home fourteen years ago. 

He was a body there to work. Doing whatever was required of him. No matter how hard... how tedious Jamie would do it because if he didn’t there would be the lash or having his two bowls of daily porridge even more rationed. Things that still had effects on him. He didn’t like to be hurt, or feel more hunger than usual or being locked up and put back in fetters. These things happened to Jamie often even though he never refused an order. 

Sometimes his body would not be strong enough for whatever was put before him. His back had been hurting recently and he couldn’t carry as much as usual. He’d been pitching hay for the horses into a cart when he had to stop when a sharp spasm knocked the breath out of him. He waited a bit and tried lifting his pitchfork but even that seemed too heavy now. Not knowing what else to do he sat down in the heather and waited for the pain to let up a little. 

His master had been out riding and when he came upon him he reigned in his horse before Jamie’s cart. He looked at the man sitting in the ground with his hands digging into his lower back in hopes of reducing his pain.

“Get up filthy Scot.” He barked at Jamie.

Dread settled in Jamie’s gut. “Canna master. I have to wait a bit for the ache to ease.”

Murchinson did not care. Jamie was there to work. His welfare wasn’t any of his concern.

“You will get up if you know what’s good for you. I will not have you being weak again. You already cost me all those days I had to call that woman healer to save your miserable life.”

Jamie nodded humbly and thought of Mrs. Randall’s soothing touch. “I’m sorry master. Please just a few moments more. I will try I swear.” He could already feel the lash in his back.

At the end it was the riding crop coming down on his shoulder as he tried to get his legs under him that made him fall to the ground. He laid there for some hours afterward until his pain lessened and then he went back to his task. It was past sunset when he stopped by the well for a drink of water because he knew there be no porridge for him today,

He went to his shed wanting his cot badly only to find that his master had locked him out in retribution. He laid his hands on the heavy lock for a few minutes but turned away sadly. Even that miserable space was not his home. 

Slowly he walked towards the stables to seek his rest with the other beasts.

He had no home but his mistress was guiding him inside hers. He felt out of place inside a house only to remember that the last time he’d set foot in one was Lallybroch. Prisons, sheds and stables he understood but the clean and warm place she presented him with was beyond his comprehension.

He froze just past the doorway. Fergus had him by the hand wanting to show him to his room. Him and his mama had fixed it nice for him. Jamie’s gaze dropped to the floor and stayed there. He was so ashamed. How can he with his filth, with his broken down body and with his sins live here as if he were a deserving person?

Claire hushed Fergus and asked him to bring them a mug of tea and maybe some valerian for Jamie. Her son ran to the kitchen to fulfill his task. Claire noted Jamie’s clammy skin and pallor. He was having such a hard time with it all.

“It’s okay Jamie. It will be fine. Just a little hurdle because how can it be otherwise? You’ll drink your tea and I’ll help you to your bed so I can take a look at that ankle.”

“ I’m fine mistress. Just tell me what work you have for me to do and I will do it.”

Claire’s heart broke at his assumption that she would have him put to work with a damaged ankle and after being pulled here by a horse for miles. She longed to hold him and ease him off to sleep but knew he wasn’t there yet.

“My first order is that you rest and heal. We will see what the next few days will bring.” 

Jamie sighed deeply. She already saw his weakness. He wasn’t worth the money she paid for him. She would likely sell him when she realized that.

“Aye mistress.”

He promised himself that he would give them everything he had left in him for however long they would keep him.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your well wishes. I was told I might be discharged today so here is hoping. I know that Jamie seems too out of character but he’s been broken by Ardsmuir, slavery and most of all by what happened in Lallybroch during his capture. This isn’t the proud, capable “Himself” of the books but a man of very little self-worth who cannot remember what is like not being abused. Claire might be the balm to that.


	4. Chapter 4

Claire hissed in sympathy when she unwrapped the rag around Jamie’s ankle. The damage to the appendage was bad and made worse by being forced take on weight when he was dragged all those miles. Claire could not understand why Murchison felt the need to do so. Jamie was docile and obedient. To subject him to such treatment was just cruelty.

The man himself peered impatiently at his foot with its bruised arch and heel while Claire palpitated it gently. He was lucky it wasn’t a break but the blood from the damaged ligament had pooled at its bottom. He needed cold compresses and rest for at least a couple of weeks. Jamie thought otherwise.

“I dinna need more than a day nursing the ankle mistress. I swear that by tomorrow I’ll be hale enough to take on my tasks. You dinna have to worrit that you bought a lazy beast for your land.”

His words were said with a disquieting eagerness. Claire stared at him blankly trying to make sense of them.

The slave saw her uneasy reaction and shook his head so that his curls shielded his eyes. He was dissapointing her already. 

“You dinna need to give me my porridge until you get a full day’s work from me. It’s near winter and I dinna want to put the added strain on your larders.” He said quietly in an effort to appease her.

Oh God, he truly believed that she would carry on his master’s treatment of him. “Jamie please don’t say such things. I won’t starve you.“

“I earn my food mistress. I’ve no coin to give ye and yer son but honest labor for my keep. I’ll not shame ye. I promise I’ll be dutiful and take my stripes when they are due.”

Stripes. He expected to be whipped. What had been done to him to have him simply accept it? Horrified she watched him continue. He was gesturing to his clothes. 

“I know I look verra poor but I try to keep clean. My shirt and my breeks are torn but I can mend them. I dinna have anything to use for patching because I dinna want to damage the fine blanket you gave me when I got sick but if you have some remnants to spare I know I can get more years out of them.”

She didn’t respond so he moved on.

“My shoes are the ones that the prison gave us when we were transported. They do not have much of a sole left but I go without when it’s warm. It does not trouble me but if your boy has an old pair that they no longer want I will be grateful for them.”

Fergus entered the room with a pot of tea and the raspberry buns Claire had baked in the early morning. Jamie’s eyes travelled automatically to the treats. The boy set the tray on the little table beside the bed having caught the man’s request “But Jamie you don’t have to worry about fixing your clothes. Mama has a lot of good shirts and pants for you. They don’t have any holes in them. I looked. She’s gonna take you to buy shoes and a warm coat too.”

It was Jamie’s turn to look disturbed. “That isn’t right lad. The mistress already spent good money on me and didn’t get anything back for her trouble. I’ll no burden her when I can do without.”

At last she had enough. “Jesus H. Christ Jamie. Please just stop it. We’re not monsters like that bastard Murchinson. We are not going to hurt you ever. I will not allow you to walk around in rags or be hungry. I made the dammed fruit buns for you and I’ll make you bannocks for breakfast tomorrow. All we want for you is to feel safe and get better. Later on you can help us with the farm but to even suggest that I would ask you—that I would order you as you are now... Frankly it says a lot about what you think of me as a healer not to mention as a human being.”

She was breathless and her cheeks scarlet with anger. Her fingers were digging into Jamie’s calf rather painfully but he wisely chose to ignore it in favor of staring at her like she’d grown another head. Fergus mouth was a large O and he briefly considered the messy condition of his room and where was the best place to hide from his mother when she discovered it.

Their equally confounded reaction to her wrath made want to smile a bit but she held it. It was nice to know that she could startle the pair into compliance . 

“Close your mouth Fergus or the flies that reside in that mess you call a bedroom are going to fly into it. Go clean it immediately. As for you Jamie- you are going to take those rags off and I will burn them. I have a shirt for you to wear and you are going to climb into your bed and eat your bloody buns and drink your tea. I don’t want to hear anything else from you until I bring you dinner.”

Both did as they were told and Claire went to get bandages for Jamie’s ankle. She would have him elevate it for a few days and then start to put some weight on it.

She knew very well that his willingness to submit to her care would be brief. He was too wounded and she had a lot of battles ahead of her. But in her heart she hoped that he would at some point allow himself to heal not only in body but in spirit. 

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you for your good wishes. Apparently my friend Hydromorphone was decreasing my O2sat so I had to stay a bit longer. I’m back home now so today’s chapter is courtesy of good old Percocet.


	5. Chapter 5

It was her experience that, for the most part, everyone liked to be coddled and cared for. Whenever her Fergus was ill she made sure he had plenty of rest, hugs and all the soft foods he preferred. Having his mother’s full attention was something he definitely liked and he would suffer any concoctions she would make him swallow without complaint. 

Frank had appreciated her nursing as well. Even when she had not been able to overcome the disease that took him she made him as comfortable as possible in his last few months. He was calm and grateful for her efforts.

Jamie’s reaction to her ministrations was not one of comfort but distress. When he had been ill with pneumonia, his exhausted body had kept him unconscious and at her mercy. This time he was fully awake and anxious at every turn. 

He would look at her intently when she would unwrap his foot and test its range of motion. Her careful fingers lightly pressing on the parts he still found tender. Their heat felt good to the abused ligaments but he couldn’t relax. She slid her index finger down his arch and he gasped breathily.

Claire set his foot down gently on its cushion and caressed it soothingly “Did I hurt you?”

Jamie shuddered visibly. “Nay mistress it’s just that I’m not used to a soft touch.”

Guilt crossed her features. “Oh I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more reserved or if you prefer I could wear gloves so I don’t have to touch your bare skin.”

Something quick and alien pressed on Jamie’s heart. He did not want to lose the feel of her hands on him. “You own my body. It is yours to do as your wish wi’ and I’ll not deny you.”

Claire rose from her chair quickly still deeply disturbed at reminders that she owned the man lying before her. “That’s not right Jamie. Your body and your life are your own and I will respect them.”

Their eyes held one another. Her reassurances laid alongside the awareness that he was hers completely. She tried something else. “Jamie, I have been meaning to ask you that if there is someone here or in Scotland that you want to contact please tell me. I could send a letter for you…”

He looked away. Darkness shadowed his deep blue eyes. “There is nobody to contact mistress.”

“I’m sure your family would want to hear from you. Even if it’s been years they will still remember you.”

His hands gripped his blanket. The long digits clawed at the thick material. “I’ve no one mistress. My family is dead.”

“I understand. I know how painful that can be. I only have Fergus now.”

Jamie nodded. She knew the weight of loneliness too if not that of dark isolation.

They were quiet for a bit. Both their gazes travelled to his injured foot that lay unwrapped in the cushion. Besides the bruising there were wide scars circling his ankle. Jamie answered before she could ask.

“They kept me in fetters in prison. Sometimes my ankles got inflamed and would seep blood down onto my feet. I reckon the scars are from that.”

It was clear that they were. She wondered if they felt tight and what she could do for that. “Did you ever try to escape?”

“Never but it dinna matter to them. The redcoats liked to see me stumble over my chains. They would pull me like a cur on its leash and laugh when I fell.” Jamie grimaced at the remembered humiliations. He didn’t tell her how they would make him crawl in the filth and beg before they let him up again.

She could never even begin to understand how some people could garner pleasure in belittling others who were helpless and at their mercy. “How long were you in prison?”

“Nine years and five months. The first four I was kept in a communal cell with the other highlanders. They let us work outside cutting peat or repairing the damage to the fortress. Then a new governor arrived. He didn’t like me because I had fought in a battle where a friend of his died. He blamed me for his loss.”

“What did he do?”

“He had them lock me in a punishment cell. They only let me out to empty my waste bucket every few days. I never saw the other men again and when I asked about them the guards would beat me until I stopped asking.”

In Claire’s eyes the comfortable, clean room became a dark stone cell with a thick iron door. A chained Jamie sat miserably on the floor before it. His arms wrapped tightly around his knees to ward off the cold. It was silent like a tomb and the only sound was that of his own breath.

“How did you withstand the isolation?”

Jamie breathed in slowly. The chains of the past made his limbs heavy and tired. “I couldn’t. I started talking to myself or even singing just to hear a human voice. Sometimes if I pressed my ear against my cell door I could hear the other prisoners but I could never make their words out fully. I didn’t even know when they had started transporting them to the colonies.”

Claire longed to comfort him. His pain was raw and still weeping.

“When the prison was emptied they took me outside and told me I would be sent here as an indentured slave. My life in the new world would be one of toil and harshness and that I would be lucky if I survived even a few years. My only reaction was relief that I wouldn’t be alone again.” He smiled grimly.

“Murchinson bought me and told me outright that I was no more than another field beast to him. I was content with that because it meant at least I would have the company of them. I could talk to the goats and whisper to the horses. I could tell tales to the chickens. And then there was you and Fergus. I was so grateful.”

The sincerity in his words touched her deeply. She now understood how the aching loneliness had damaged his soul, chipping away at his humanity so he became animal-like in his interactions. He was like an abused dog cowering, fearful and completely obedient. Hoping for a kind gesture but expecting to be kicked away instead.

“Oh Jamie.”

Her embrace was foreign to him and for a brief second he wanted to recoil and hide. His heart beat wildly in panic. Claire held on to him tightly until he calmed down. Did she not know that no one touched Jamie? No one cared about the old, battered slave with his ragged clothes singing in soft Gaelic to his fellow animals because there was no one else.

“It will alright Jamie. I’m here and you are not alone anymore.”

He melted into her in a flurry of his broken sobs and her soft reassurances. Years of pain, of imprisonment, of humiliation and aching solitude poured out of him like a stream. And she, his mistress, took every lashing memory unto herself. Crying for him when no one else had. Seeing him when no one else would.

Healing him. 

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Four months later.

Jamie all but jumped out of bed eager to get the day started. It was the beginning of the planting season and he had set a list of tasks for himself that would keep him occupied past sunset. 

He washed quickly using the basin of water and fragrant sunflower oil soap that had been readied for him the day before. There was a small mirror by his washstand and he noticed that his hair may have been getting too long. He would ask his mistress for a trim but in the meantime tied it back with a bit of string so it wouldn’t be in his face while he worked.

His clothes had been freshly laundered and he quickly located his favorite workshirt and breeks. He settled back on his bed and pulled on the thick woolen socks that Claire had knitted for him. Even thought it was slowly getting warmer she said it was important that his feet stayed dry. She’d also gotten him a pair of fine workboots which he carefully cleaned every night before bed. Everything his mistress gave him was treated with special care.

His daily ablutions finished, he made his way to the kitchen to grab some bread only to find that she was already setting down a plate with thick slices of ham for his breakfast. His nose told him he would also find his beloved bannocks and a tray of oatcake finishing up in the oven. No matter how early he would wake she always had breakfast ready for him. 

Jamie stopped in the doorway to watch her. She was bonny in her blue plaid skirt and grey shawl. She’d pinned up her hair but refused to wear a cap which meant that her curls would escape their confinement as the day progressed. Sometimes he had to catch himself as he reached out to touch one. He wondered how soft it would feel on his fingertips. Would it be like slippery silk or soft satin? He would never know and it made him sad.

She must have sensed his gaze for she turned around with a warm smile. “Good morning Jamie. Would you care for some coffee?”

“Aye mistress thank ye and good morrow to you as well. Is there anything I can do to help?” Jamie asked indicating at the breakfast preparations.

“No, it’s fine. Just sit and eat. I know you have a filled day ahead of you and it’s important for you to keep your strength up. I’ll get your coffee.”

Claire knew that at this time of day he would take it black but later he would add cream and a bit of sugar. His last coffee of the day was really just warm milk with just a hint of coffee. 

She poured his cup from her old tin pot and sat before him with her cup of tea and toast. Fergus would sleep for another hour yet and then join Jamie in the fields. At around noon she would take their lunch to them and all three would take their meal together.

But breakfast was only her and Jamie. He would tell her of his plans for the day and she would do the same. They would trade horror stories about the bad tempered sow that was currently terrorizing the other animals in the stable. Jamie had almost lost his hand trying to move the stubborn animal when it escaped its pen. He wouldn’t risk Claire or Fergus near the creature.

Claire suppressed a smile when as she watched Jamie enthusiastically eat the food she made for him. She was a good cook and ever since he’d come to them she made an extra effort. Many a Scottish dish became part of her rotation which he enjoyed very much.

Good food, a warm place to sleep and enough rest had changed Jamie tremendously. He had gone from a wraith to a healthy and striking man. A diet rich in protein had given him a well defined musculature that she could see through his shirt as he worked around the house. His skin had a lovely, ruddy glow to it which she rather envied in comparison with her paler complexion. The silver streaks in his auburn hair were fading a bit but what was most breathtaking was the change in his eyes. The slanted blue orbs shone with a new light that she’d believed she never see in him. He was happy.

At first she and Fergus had to work very hard at getting him to trust the world that they presented him with. Her wonderful son understood that his friend had been hurt deeply, so deeply that he did not know how to act around them. Jamie had always been kind to Fergus but that was before she bought his bond. Fergus was no longer a young man to guide but another master to fear. It left him confused and unsure.

Her son remembered his own feelings of distrust when he was first taken into their home. Fergus was six and well versed with the loneliness of the orphanage where he was just another unwanted child. For the first few weeks in their home the young boy did not utter a sound but would stare around with his wide brown eyes while clutching a new toy dog to his chest. Everything scared him including the tall man and the woman with the lovely smile.

Frank was at a loss as to what to do with his new son. Adopting had been his idea but in truth he’d hoped for a baby and believed Claire wanted the same. In their second visit to the orphanage they’d come across the child playing with a bedraggled sock puppet that might have been a dog in another incarnation. He was talking to the toy in French as another boy ran towards him and pulled the dog from his grasp. The unfortunate creature was torn in two leaving his owner with a single floppy ear in his grasp. 

Fergus didn’t cry but retreated into a corner clutching the cloth appendage. His quiet actions in regards to the loss of what was likely his only friend broke Claire’s heart. She knew that she had to give the special boy a home.

But the best things and most precious are never easy. Claire waited patiently for her son to feel secure in his surroundings. She provided him with a set schedule that he could put his trust on. Fergus came to understand how everything worked around him and began to venture into his day with his stuffed doggy and his mother’s soft reassurances to guide him.

When Fergus realized that this was his home, Claire started to show him love. She would play with him and tickle him silly until he laughed. At night they would read French fairytales and she would take him out when she collected her herbs. He would always insist in holding her basket because he was a man and it was his job.

He really didn’t grow close to Frank until they left England for the colonies. The excitement of a new world was what the pair needed to finally bond. Claire would always be Fergus’ first love but they were now a family.

The same magic was needed again but Fergus and Claire knew how to wield it.

Jamie’s ankle healed slowly but eventually he was able to put his weight on it again. Claire had him walk around a bit using a cane for added support. He was relieved to be out of bed and quickly started to take over some chores from her and Fergus. He would feed the animals, milk the cow and do any of the small repairs he could manage while still convalescing. Once or twice she caught him staring at the roof longingly knowing full well that he was considering replacing the shingles . She told him to forget about doing anything like that yet.

Claire tried to give Jamie’s days some structure that allowed for meals and rest and not the back-breaking labor he’d grown to expect as his lot in life . There was always a hearty breakfast in the kitchen for him which she always shared. In Murchinson’s farm he had been made to wait patiently by the kitchen door for the cook to bring out a bowl of porridge for him. He would sit on the ground and quickly eat using his hands as they would not give him any silverware. The empty bowl was to be left on the step going to the kitchen as he was not allowed to ever enter the house.

Porridge was all he got so Claire made sure his meals were as varied as she was able to make them but what was most important was that Jamie feel that he belonged with them. At first he was shy and barely spoke. She could tell that he was having some difficulty remembering his table manners, not having used them in decades, but he ate slowly and carefully. His eyes were usually glued to his plate. He never asked for seconds but would always accept them when offered. Jamie was a tall man that had been sustained by very little food for many years so Claire made sure he ate his fill.

When breakfast was over he would ask her if there was something she wanted for him to do. She would have some task that would not require any significant weight bearing . Whatever she asked him to do would be accomplished quickly and with care. 

Afterwards he set about completing the tasks he had set out for himself. He was always looking for something else to do which in a farm was never a challenge. Claire had Fergus make sure that whatever he attempted would not put any strain on his still weakened ankle. 

As he grew stronger she saw traces of the man he might have been before the rising and prison. There was a certain nascent confidence in him as he moved about the farm. He saw the need for not only the work he could do but for also for the knowledge he could provide. He still deferred humbly to her but Claire always took his advice because he knew what he was talking about. 

So with enough nourishment both physical and spiritual, Jamie began to trust, to mend and to love.

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments. It really encourages me when I get stuck in a chapter that seems repetitive in its structure (like this one).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve a bit of a block so nothing really happens in this chapter. I know where I am heading with this story but it’s a challenge getting there. Just give me a little time and patience and I’ll work it out. Thank you for your comments.

Claire recognized the beginning of a tension headache. She rubbed circles on her temple and briefly closed her eyes against the light. It didn’t help. The headache was still coming and the column of figures in the ledger did not get any smaller.

She’d been at this for at least an hour and it was becoming more and more frustrating. Trying to balance the accounts was always a challenge and especially since she could not remember where half the bills came from. She understood, however, enough to realize that they were in serious financial trouble.

Buying Jamie had done quite a lot of damage to their precarious budget. She had spent three years’ barley crop on him. They would have to tighten their belts in the coming months to not go under which was a daunting proposition with a child. Claire was determined her son would not want for anything but maybe somethings were more important than money or so she hoped. Fergus was happier with Jamie in their home and so was she. His presence seemed to have made their family whole and she was grateful for it.

She could hear him now hammering away at the roof. He’d taken a bucket of shingles with him a few hours ago and was busy replacing the rotted ones. The noise was probably not helping her headache but she didn’t really mind. She liked knowing that he was set on protecting their homestead just as much as she was. 

At last the hammering stopped and she could hear him start to climb down. Claire rose from her seat and headed towards the kitchen. Jamie would be hungry after a morning of hard work.

She had a couple of meat pies in the oven. He greatly enjoyed meat pies so she knew he would be pleased. In the months that he had lived with them, she’d come to learn of many of his preferences. He loved spiced ham, turkey hash and of course bannocks. If she made something sweet, he and Fergus would flutter about the kitchen until she let them have a taste. He was usually up with the lark and would fall asleep fairly early in the night. She found it amusing when his eyes began dropping a little after nine. He would swat at them like a child but she would send him off to bed soon after despite his protestations. 

It took her a bit to realize that he did not want to be alone after dark. He craved company especially hers. This became very clear to her when one night she got up for a glass of water only to stumble on a blanket covered shape by her doorway.

“What on earth?” She yelled loudly as she caught herself on the side wall before she could fall. 

He scrambled to his feet and pulled her to him. His thick blanket was about his shoulders. Claire settled against the soft wool and breathed in the warm, musky scent of a sleepy Jamie. 

“I’m sorry mistress. I dinna mean any harm.”

“Why are you here Jamie? Are you well?” She touched his face and neck looking for signs of fever.

Jamie closed his eyes at the feel of her hands on his skin. His breathing grew a little shallow and embarrassment colored his cheeks as he opened them. “I’m well mistress. It’s just that I have night terrors and I wanted to not be alone for a wee bit. I should not have imposed on ye like that.”

“Nonsense Jamie it’s alright but you can’t sleep in the floor. You’ll hurt your back.”

“Dinna fash mistress, I’ve slept in far worse than your nice clean floor.” He said shyly noticing that she was only wearing a linen shift. He could see the outline of her breasts through the thin material. The slim white ribbon about her chest was the only thing keeping the shift about her shoulders. He longed to pull the knot apart.

Claire stepped back a bit and ran a hand through her disheveled curls. She was certain that they were pointing in all different directions. “You should have knocked. I can brew you some lemon balm tea so you can relax.”

“Nay mistress. I dinna want to be a pest. It’s bad enough I am acting like a scared bairn seeking comfort. With your permission I’ll be going back to my room now.” He turned to go troubled by the pull of her body.

“Jamie wait.” She went into her room and back with a small blue satin pillow with lace edging. “Try this. It’s dried lavender and millet husks. It sometimes helps with the bad dreams.”

“I canna, this is yours.”

“I only needed the first few months after Frank passed. I am using it as a regular pillow now and I have plenty others.”

He took the offering in his large hands. “I thank ye kindly mistress and I apologize for scaring ye so.”

She smiled and watched him go. She wondered how many nights he’d spent sleeping on her floor trying to garner solace from being close to her. He was stronger physically but emotionally he was still very much in pain. It would take much longer for him to finally be whole.

Jamie closed the door behind him with a sigh. His room was warm and comfortable but he longed to be back in the floor by his mistress’ room. There he felt safe from the bleak memories that found him in his deepest sleep. Tonight he’d been back in his Ardsmuir cell praying for God to forgive him and take him with Him. He’d awoken terrified and yearning for the comfort of his mistress.

He put the little pillow she’d given him on his bed. It was soft and felt warm like its owner. Carefully, he laid down and pressed it against his nose. He breathed in the scent of lavender laced with his mistress’ own subtle herbal aroma. He moaned at the exquisite sachet. Frustrated tears burned in his eyes, desire burned in his loins.

Oh how he longed for her. He wanted to kiss her until they were both breathless. He wanted to bury himself in her while holding on to her like a drowning man to a raft in a pounding sea. He yearned to please her and have her cry out his name in passion. And yet he knew he could never hope to deserve her. She’d had a gentleman who had given her a good name, a dear son and a legacy to care for. Jamie was poor, enslaved and of no account. His hands were empty and his soul was broken. He smiled bitterly through his tears. He was such a pathetic fool in love with a dream.

In his darkest moments when he had little to keep him he’d turned to prayer to sustain him. Now his plea was no less fervent than when he was in prison.

“Lord, if I've never had courage in my life before, let me have it now. Let me be brave enough not to fall on my knees and beg her to love me.”

Tbc.


	8. Chapter 8

The dawn found him cuddled around the satin pillow. He’d fallen asleep soothed by the twin scents of lavender and Claire. In his dreams his mistress had been tangled about him, sharing his warmth. He swore that he had felt the contours of her curves through the homespun of his shirt—the softness of her breasts. Her head had rested on his chest and her silky hair had knotted about his neck but in truth he’d slept alone just like every other night in his life.

He was heartbroken but very much resigned. Jamie was used to doing without what most men took for granted. He had no freedom, no property and no woman by his side. Such things were lost to him the moment he set foot on Culloden Moor.

Jamie rose quietly as his usual enthusiasm was subdued by the night before. He readied himself and made his bed. The lavender pillow was placed on top of his blanket. He knew he’d return to it that night seeking its consolation.

He ate his breakfast quickly and refused politely when Claire offered seconds. He also wouldn’t look at her which concerned her a bit. She figured that he was just feeling self-conscious from last night. As she saw him go she wondered what had happened that made him seem smaller than he’d been just one day ago.

A few hours later she was watching her son eat his own breakfast when they heard an unfamiliar horse come to a stop right outside her door. With his usual exuberance , Fergus ran to the door and pulled it open. Mother and son stood by the doorway as their visitor dismounted his horse and walked towards them.

He was a gentleman of means evident by his fine blue wool coat and the silver buckles in his shoes. A black tricorn hat covered thin brown hair that was carefully dressed and tied back with a silk ribbon. 

The man came before them and removed his hat while bowing slightly.

“Hello Mrs. Randall and young Mr. Randall. I am your new neighbor Thomas Christie.” He greeted them politely.

Claire and Fergus returned his bow, “Good to meet you Mr. Christie. I am Claire and this is my son Fergus.” Fergus as man of the house extended his hand in greeting which Mr. Christie shook solemnly.

“It’s nice to meet you Fergus, I’ve got a lass and lad about your age.” He said amicably.

“Are you from Scotland?” The boy inquired recognizing the familiar accent.

“Aye we are from Edinburgh. We’ve arrived in the colonies more than a decade ago so my children do not remember the old country very well but I seem to in my every word.”

“Jamie’s from Scotland too but he is from the highlands.”

Mr. Christie frowned. “Who’s Jamie?”

Claire gave her son a look of displeasure. She really needed to correct Fergus’ tendency to burst out without thinking. “Jamie works with us.”

“Oh. Mr. Murchinson’s bond slave? He said that you bought a man from him, a criminal with a striped back.”

A sudden flare of anger surprised Clare. She hated when Jamie was disparaged by anyone especially a stranger she’d just met. “Jamie is not a criminal. He was transported because he fought with the highland army during the Rising.”

Christie waved her off. “I did not mean any offense Madam. In fact I am here to inquire if you would sell the slave to me. You see I have just purchased Mr. Murchinson’s farm and he had informed me that your bonded man is quite familiar with its fields. I feel that having him would be an asset while I acclimate to the running of a farm.”

“ I thought you believed him a criminal. How then can you trust a criminal in your property?”

“It wouldn’t be a concern Mrs. Randall I know how to deal with his kind.”

Her blood was boiling by now. Fergus looked angry as well.

“And how would you deal with Jamie if you would be so kind.”she said icily.

Christie chose to disregard her tone. “You have to keep him in line. Punish him swiftly and harshly when he misbehaves. He is well acquainted with the lash so he must fear it greatly. I would use that fear and also leave him hungry so he knows he has to work for his meals.”

She had a mental image of Jamie back in that hell she’d found him in. Alone, degraded and worked to exhaustion. No…HELL NO. She would give him up over her dead body,

“Get out of my land. I would never let you within a hundred feet of my Jamie.” She was shouting.

Mr Christie looked perplexed. He’d never seen such emotion in a woman especially over something so insignificant as the welfare of a convict. It was strangely appealing.

“I beg your pardon Madame. I had no idea that you held the slave in such regard. Please excuse my forwardness in such a delicate matter.”

She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. She was so angry but she managed to sound civil. “You are excused but I ask that you do not disparage Jamie again. I will not sell him so do not bother making an offer.”

“I understand Madame. I will not venture so anymore. Still, I ask that as neighbors we should cultivate friendly relations. I am aware that you are a widow as I am. “  
“ I am.”

He moved closer to her. As strange gleam of raw attraction evident in his pale eyes. Disgust in shone hers.

Fergus’ hands folded into fists. He was ready to pounce on the man in the slightest provocation. He wouldn’t see his mother disrespected.

Without fanfare or invitation, Christie placed his large hand on Claire’s shoulder. She froze at the affront.

Jamie’s voice was almost guttural in its anger as he came up behind Christie.

“ I’ll thank you to take your hands off my mistress.”

TBC.


	9. Chapter 9

“ I’ll thank you to take your hands off my mistress.”

Jamie was soft spoken and submissive. He was a damaged man that needed comfort through the worst of his memories. A man she’d held as he sobbed like a child; his tears soaking through her woolen dress to her shift.

That was the Jamie she knew and trusted. The Jamie facing down Thomas Christie was a stranger.

He looked feral in his full height. His head was high and indignation blazed in his eyes as livid blue fire. He was bare chested and covered in bloody streaks from the animal he’d been butchering before he came to them. Every line in his body was taut with barely controlled rage ready to pounce and kill —ready to protect her. His hands were clawed his teeth were showing.

This was a savage.

Christie’s hand fell away from Claire and he backed into Fergus. The boy pushed him away but the man was frozen in place. His eyes were wide and frightened and focused on the vision before him.

“Red Jamie.” He whispered.

Claire herself could not take her gaze away from Jamie. “Who?”

Jamie moved in front of her and pulled Fergus away from Christie. “Dinna touch her again. Dinna even look at her again or I will rip your head from your neck and feed it to the sow.” He snarled.

Christie shuddered visibly but tried to stand his ground. “I thought they hung you. They should have hung you.”

Jamie’s hands curled into fists and he breathed loudly. “Get out.”

At last the instinct of self preservation broke through Christie’s shock. The man before him was ready to tear him apart and enjoy doing so. “I will take my leave now.” He announced wisely.

Jamie had Claire firmly ensconced behind him so she could not see when Christie turned away and quickly walked towards his horse. If she had she would have seen the panic echoed in his every movement even as he galloped away.

Claire and Fergus looked at each other unsure as to what to do. This unfamiliar manifestation of Jamie had unsettled them greatly. Jamie’s deeply scarred back was towards them. It was heaving with every breath and barely suppressed fury. Claire wanted to pull her son away from this frightening man and run inside her house locking all the doors.

Jamie turned slowly. He looked into the horrified faces of his mistress and her boy and anguish broke in his eyes. They’d seen. Oh God they’d seen him. He bowed his head and knelt on the ground before them. Penitent and meek once more.

“Mistress please…forgive me.” he pleaded softly.

Claire gasped but held still. Her tried and true Jamie had returned but how could she go to him when she had seen the other. She turned to her son. “Fergus go inside.”

“But mama…”

“Do as I say.”

Reluctantly the boy disappeared into the house. His eyes glued on the kneeling Jamie.

The man on the ground was still and quiet, humbly waiting for her decision. 

What should she do? He’d defended her honor but at the same time he’d shown her something she wasn’t ready to see. She knew he had been a soldier but the darkness she’d seen in him went much beyond that.

She had to know.

“Thomas Christie called you Red Jamie and he was afraid of you. Why was he afraid of you Jamie?” she asked warily.

Jamie hung his head even lower in defeat.

“Because…” he sobbed “because I am a monster. A savage unworthy of redemption. Because I have maimed and killed like a brute. Because I was to have died in Culloden with my men but I didn’t and I don’t know why.”

“Jamie you cannot say that. You were meant to survive.”

“I was meant to die mistress but what happened was much worse.”

Claire drew closer to him. The healer in her longed to ease him his pain but this was beyond her skills. All she could do was stand there and listen. Maybe he needed her to just listen.

“I ken that I earned all the beatings, the humiliations, the hunger, the loneliness and I am not yet done paying for my sins but you are so kind to me.” He raised his head and looked at her tenderly. His eyes were moist and reddened but still beautiful and his next words were softly spoken. “Kind and beautiful. I don’t deserve ye but I will protect ye and the laddie.”

“I don’t expect you to Jamie. It’s far to risky for you. They will hang you if you hurt a freeman.”

He shrugged not seeing the importance. “Tis of no consequence if they do for all I’m worth. I can only give you the protection of my body and I will do so as long as I can.”

She knew that she couldn’t dissuade him but she had to try. “Christie could go to the authorities and say that you threatened him. They could arrest you Jamie. Do you want to go back to prison? Back to being locked up and kept in chains?”

He rose slowly to face her. He held his arms close to his body even though his fingers twitched with the need to draw her closer to him. 

“I dinna care. I couldn’t bear it when he touched you because you are not mine but you are not his either.”

“Jamie don’t” she turned away but he countered.

“You’re not mine but I would trade whatever is left of my soul for ye to be.”

“Stop Jamie I’m not ready to hear those things.”

“Not from your slave.” he stated dismally.

“Not from anyone. I don’t know if I will ever be.”

She walked into the the house leaving Jamie staring after her. 

 

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter at least twice and I am still not happy with how it turned out. Next chapter might take a bit longer since it is meant to move the relationship significantly. Just like in the books, Tom Christie will focus his attention on Claire but unlike the books this time he will likely have the upper hand over Jamie. Thank you to everyone who is reading this. Your kudos and comments are what encourages me to keep on plodding through it. Have a lovely holiday if applicable.


	10. Chapter 10

Claire was sitting in her bed. It was a cool night so she still had her shawl around her shoulders. She darning yet another pair of her son’s stockings. He’d apparently run through some brambles and had torn them in several places. Normally she would just replace them but finances as they were it was better to conserve as much as they could.

“Mama?”

Claire looked up to see her aforementioned son standing by her door. She hadn’t noticed when he had come in.

“Yes love?”

“Do you know where Jamie is? I can’t find him anywhere.”

Claire’s gaze returned to her mending. “Are you sure that he’s not in his room?”

Fergus sat in her bed and swung his long legs impatiently. “No mama. Jamie doesn’t sleep there anymore.”

Claire put down her work and turned to her son. “Where then does he sleep?”

“Outside. The stables most of the time, sometimes the spring house or the shed. He says it’s not proper for a male servant to sleep in the house when you don’t have a husband.”

“Jesus H. Christ. That man is going to drive me to an early grave with his martyr complex.”

She rose from her bed clearly her mending would have to wait . Where did she put her cloak?

“You’re going to look for him?”

“Yes of course and drag him back by his overlong red hair if I have to.”

“Can I come too?” Fergus asked giving her a winsome smile. 

“No. It’s late and you need to get some sleep.”

Fergus protested but was wise enough to let it go when his mother gave him the look. She was angry as it was.

Claire went out into the night with her lantern guiding her way. She had unpinned her hair so it lay loose about her shoulders. The wind seemed to be picking up so it was likely that a storm was coming. She was probably going to be soaked looking for her wayward, infuriating Scotsman.

Why in the bloody hell would he leave his perfectly comfortable room to sleep outside? He’d been sleeping in that room for months so what could have changed?

Realization hit her like a stone. Everything had changed and she’d been too preoccupied to notice. Ever since the incident with Christie, Jamie had pulled away bit by bit. He had been forgoing breakfast in favor of getting to the fields early so they no longer had that time together. She still brought lunch for him and Fergus but even as they ate together he seemed distant and did not really speak to her as much as he’d done before. And yet sometimes she catch him unawares looking at her. The naked hunger is his eyes was unmistakable but she wouldn’t acknowledge it. She couldn’t and he didn’t act on it. He waited patiently and let her have all the control in whatever what’s going to happen between them. 

It had been weeks and her rejection must have been hard on him. As Jamie got physically stronger it was easier to overlook the fact that he was not just another man. With him everything was deeper and more significant. He wasn’t emotionally intact so he could not overcome her spurning him. He’d rather not be in her presence as much as he could manage.

Well she wasn’t about to let him do that. She wanted him in her home, eating her food and sleeping in the bed that she provided for him. Claire did not want to think too much as to where this possessiveness was coming from but there it was.

Like Fergus had said, he wasn’t in the stables or the spring house. He also wasn’t in the smokeshed or the barn. There was only another place where he could be.

One of the last things Frank had done before he’d gotten sick was to start the construction of a shed where she could store her various medicinal plants to dry and other concoctions. He’d intended to make it fairly large as her work tended to consume their living quarters but he never had a chance to finish it. The walls and roof were up but the floor had not been laid. It had a doorway but no door. She bet that she would find Jamie there.

He was there facing away from the entrance. He was kneeling in front of a bucket where he was dipping a rag to wash himself. He was also nude.

Jamie was just beautiful. Claire grasped at the clasp of her cloak feeling it pull at her neck. She should turn around and go back to the house. She could talk to Jamie tomorrow about not sleeping in his room and missing meals, it wouldn’t make much of a difference if he slept outside one more day she told herself. 

She was still telling herself that when she walked into the shed. He heard her steps and rose in haste to face her.

“Mistress?” he asked warily.

“Don’t say a word.” It was an order.

He nodded and stood there his left hand clutching his rag as she approached him.

She didn’t know what she was doing and for once she didn’t care. Everything had narrowed down to the man before her.

Claire set her lantern before the bucket and drew the rag away from him. He let his hand fall to his side and closed his eyes. Hers remained wide open as she spread her cloak on the floor and sank to her knees.

He must have felt the thinness of the old cotton shift for he’s gasped when the material brushed against his leg as she leaned towards the bucket.

In a haze, she immersed the rag in the cold well water he’d been using to wash. With deliberate strokes she set about running the cloth through his muscled calves feeling him tighten them under the pressure of her hand. There was a small cut there, a thin line amidst the fine cooper hairs in his leg. She washed the bit of blood away and moved on. His thighs were taut with tension as was his backside. She dipped the washcloth and ran it in tiny circles across the span of skin.

And there he was nestled in a patch of soft auburn hair. Straining and responding to her touch on his body. He was large as she’d expected and strangely lovely. Claire let the rag fall back to the bucket and was still.

Moments went by. Jamie was breathing heavily but she was perfectly calm when she extended a careful finger and ran it across the length of him.

He was quivering beneath her, his breaths came in soft gasp as she touched him. Frank had been receptive to the pleasure that she gave him but part of him remained forever guarded from her. Jamie had no such protection, he was laid bare and achingly vulnerable before her. 

She looked up to see that he was crying with his eyes still closed shut. His arms had wrapped around his torso in an effort to give himself comfort. Claire rose to face him.

“You’re hiding.”

He gasped and with much visible effort he brought his arms down, ever obedient.

“Please.” he begged.

“Jamie hush. You told me your body was mine.”

He nodded and opened his eyes to her so she could see what she was doing to him. In its blue depths she found tortured desire coupled with humiliation and pain.

Claire placed her hands on his heaving chest tracing the curves of his muscles. He was warm and still moist from his interrupted washing. She pressed her lips against his right nipple and her tongue explored the tight little nub. Jamie groaned but remained still. Her mouth travelled to its twin pressing butterfly kisses on his chest as she went.

Her arm snaked to his back exploring the ridges and knots of his earlier punishments. She wondered if he could even feel her touch through the disfigured flesh. Her hand traced a lash scar that ran through his torso to the upper part of his backside. Claire turned downwards a bit and cupped the firm flesh of his rear.

She had to press closer to him and felt his hear beat wildly against her skin. He was on the brink of collapse and it excited her.

A flash of lightening caught her unawares. The storm was close. 

Claire bent down to pick up her cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders. She should tell Jamie to come with her but understood that it was best for him to be alone tonight. After all, she’d punished him enough for his transgression.

As she stepped across the threshold, she turned to gaze at him. He remained standing still as she ordered him to, a bruised look to his eyes. Claire dropped hers in shame and left the shed.

 

Tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know she’s objectifying him terribly and this is all kinds of wrong. This is how she’s dealing with her attraction to him but I have faith in the Claire we know and love will shine through. I was just watching the episode where he hits her so that might have colored this one a bit and also the fact that it’s 8 degrees outside and I hate winter. Sorry I will try to do better in the next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

She ran towards the house as the thunder rolled in the sky. The wind had started to pick up and swept her heavy cloak about her. The rain came down just as she reached her herb garden. She went on her knees before the rosemary bushes and vomited the contents of her stomach on the grass.

She was still heaving as the rain pelted down on her, drenching her hair and soaking her cloak but she did not have the wherewithal to rise. 

Jamie. Oh God what had she done?

She’d broken her promise to him and treated him as everyone else had. She violated his trust just because she was angry at him for pulling away from her. He’d just been trying to protect himself and she had done her best to crush him.

She was vile and sick and deserved nothing but his hatred. Jamie would shun her and he would be right to do so even though it would break her heart. She’d shattered his with impunity.

Claire could not understand why she’d done what she’d done. When she saw him she had become drunk on the vision of him. Intoxicated by her claim on the most intimate parts of his flesh and he had not denied her. He had opened to her like a bloom in the sun and let her do as she wished.

She made an effort to get her legs under her. The ground had become muddy and her shoes slipped landing her back where she had been. Tears came to her eyes which mixed with the rainwater pouring down on her. Thunder reverberated across the landscape and she cried harder feeling helpless and alone.

Jamie’s arms embraced her from behind lifting her from the ground. Her breath stilled in her lungs as he turned her towards him and set to carry her inside. 

A flash of lightening briefly illuminated him. Claire saw the same sweet and devoted gaze directed towards her as always. She buried her face in the soft homespun of his shirt. Shame burning in her skin.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Jamie.”

“I know lass. It’s fine. Let me take you home.”

He curbed his body to shield her from the pelting rain as he ran the rest of the way towards the house. Jamie carried her inside and set her down carefully on a chair by the fireplace after taking her sodden cloak off. 

“I best take those muddy shoes off from you too. You keep telling me that’s it’s important to keep yer feet dry.” He knelt before her and unlaced the short leather boots. He placed them and the cloak by the fireplace.. “I’ll be brushing the mud off them when they dry.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Och no. It’s no bother mistress.”

Jamie went into the kitchen and returned with a clean piece of cloth she sometimes used to wipe the dishes dry. He knelt once more and drew the cloth around her left foot gently drying it. She watched him as he repeated the action on the other.

A loud gale of rain pounded against the glass window and thunder crashed down. She instinctively pulled closer to him and he looked up at the same time. She expected to find anger in them but could only discern calmness and quiet melancholia.

“Oh Jamie.” 

He shook his head dismissing her regret over her violation of him. “You were right to do as you did. I needed to be put in my place.”

“Please Jamie that wasn’t it. I did not set out to hurt you so.”

“Nay mistress it was naught but your due. I still have dreams you know. Silly fantasies I build in my head to make myself feel happy. I dinna ken why because I should be long past foolish hopes but they still come sometimes. It’s best to trample them down early, I think.” He rose from his task and walked back towards the kitchen. There was heaviness in his shoulders and a droop to his neck.

A shiver ran through Claire’s body that had nothing to do with the warmth in the room. She’d never seen a man quench the flames of his own spirit before.

She didn’t know what to do. If she did nothing he would fade quietly before her. How does a woman heal a man she’s wounded so badly? How does she give him hope again?

He returned to the den. A mug of hot tea in his hands readied for her. No longer ashamed, he’d pulled his shirt off to dry. He was still wet from the storm and the auburn strands of his hair were plastered on his face and shoulders. 

He handed her the tea with a soft smile. “There you go mistress, it’ll warm you up.”

Claire sipped her honeyed tea and watched him through lowered lashes. He’d tracked some mud inside bringing her in and was on his hands and knees wiping it away with a rag.

The light from the fire played upon the expanse of his back. The scars glowed vividly amidst the pale skin. She remembered how tender they had felt beneath her touch. 

She set aside the mug and rose from her seat. Her decision was finally made. There was only one thing for her to do really. 

Claire trailed her fingers on Jamie’s wet curls and he stiffened but did not turn towards her.

“You want to touch me again mistress?” He asked sadly.

She didn’t answer but dipped her head to kiss the back of his neck. He tasted like rain and smoke and sweat. He sighed and turned towards her, his breath catching when he saw that she’d shed her shift.

“My lady you canna.”

Her mouth trailed across his neck and chest. Her breasts rubbed lightly against his chest as she eased herself into his embrace. 

“Come with me to my room…please.”

Claire tangled her right hand in his hair bringing his lips down to hers. They kissed, first tenderly, then more urgently. Her hips tilted against his drawing him closer until he pulled away with much effort.

“I canna take ye my lady. It isn’t proper. I’m not your husband.” He was panting and trying to halfheartedly dislodge her from himself but she clung to him.

“I will be yours if you’ll have me.” She promised.

“Truly lass. Mine forever?”

Claire stared into his eyes which were wide open with wonderment and disbelief. This was the man whose life had granted him nothing but suffering and loneliness. A man she herself had carelessly damaged. And yet he remained beautiful and kind. She would be so lucky to love him and be loved by him.

“Yes” she answered with no hesitation. 

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope they get to her room before Fergus wakes up not that I think he’ll mind too much. I know that the previous chapter was a bit hard to swallow but hopefully this one makes it better. Happy 2018 to all and thank you ever so much for reading and commenting. Writing this has helped dealing with a challenging time in my life but I am hopeful for better times ahead.


	12. Chapter 12

A very long time ago Brian Fraser had answered a question for his fifteen year old son that had shaped Jamie’s way of thinking for a long time to come. The young lad wanted to know which of the pretty lassies that fluttered about the laird-to be should become his wife. Brian Fraser had given his son a pat on the shoulder and assured him that when he met his lady he would simply know. Jamie had devoted a lot of time thinking about what his father had meant. Would the lassie’s looks be what inspired him to propose? If so Ian’s cousin Bridget from Inverness was a pretty enough girl while Mary from Broch Mordha had a nice smile and was very good at cookery but neither of these girls seemed to be the right one. In Paris, he thought that he’d finally found his love but he had been terribly mistaken. Jamie set to wait patiently for her to come into his life. 

On the day of his sentencing as a traitor to the crown, Jamie realized that his waiting was over. She had not come and maybe it was best that she hadn’t. He would have made her suffer too much.

So Jamie grew resigned to the knowledge that with his freedom he had also lost the chance to find his true mate, to feel love and to build a family. He would die alone and rest unmourned. 

But one day he’d been so sick that his master had let him stay in his cot for once. He’d laid there for days, too feeble to even rise for a drink of water even if he’d had any in his shed. He’d begun to hallucinate when he had first grown aware of her touch on his fevered skin. She’d embraced him to calm him down from the distress the hallucinations were causing him. Jamie opened his eyes with a lot of effort and saw her for the first time.

Oh there you are, he thought.

He’d fallen asleep then. Safe in the certainty that she’d finally come so he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Mistress Randall was the woman he was meant for. The woman who would lay claim to everything he had and everything he was. But he wasn’t the Laird of Lallybroch anymore and he no longer had a family or a shilling to bless his name. There was nothing to offer her.

It had been difficult but Jamie had decided that if he couldn’t hope to have her then he would serve her with devotion. She was so beautiful and generous to him that he thrived in her presence. His mistress made his heart sing. What if he had to repress the physical wanting of her that would torture him regularly? He had long since grown used to ignoring his own needs.

Everything was fine until that bastard Christie had dared to touch her. For the first time, Jamie had felt the burn of unrequited love mired with restrained passion race through his bloodstream. He’d lost all trace of civility when dealing with the threat this interloper represented. His mistress was his and no one else’s.

He’d given himself away then. He loved her and couldn’t keep it hidden anymore. He tried to pull away from her but she’d gotten angry and punished him for it. It had left him humiliated and exposed but obedient once more.

Now she was in his arms and he could not grasp that he would finally have her. She’d kissed him while pressing her naked body to him and his heart had almost stopped.

He carried her to her bed, laying her carefully across the cream and blue quilt. She buried herself into its softness, her eyes slitted with lust for him, inviting him, beckoning him to her. The deep ache in him throbbed at the sight. His lady at last. A flash of lightening illuminated her beautifully.

Jamie didn’t know where to start. He knew little beyond kissing but his mistress deserved more than the efforts of a man that had spent his youth behind the lonely walls of Ardsmuir. She’d been loved by a husband who had most likely learned the secrets of her flesh and here was Jamie clumsy in his inexperience. God let me do right by her, let me be enough.

“Don’t you want me Jamie?”

“I want you so much that I can scarcely breathe but I dinna ken how to love ye. I dinna want to dishonor ye with my poor efforts.”

She rose to lean against her pillows. “I don’t understand…you mean to tell me you’ve never lain with a woman before?”

“Nay mistress.” He admitted in shame.

She was astonished. “How is that possible? You are exquisite.”

He smiled kissing the tip of her nose grateful at the compliment. “Not so exquisite. Mostly unfortunate and I never wanted to trouble a lassie with a bairn from a man without a future.”

He didn’t tell her that he’d been waiting for her to come into to his life. He didn’t want to burden her with the secrets of his heart.

“ I’m deeply honored that you are giving me this gift Jamie. I’ll treasure it as I do you.”

“Tis no gift mistress. I’m an old man.”

“You are beautiful and untouched. Let me wake up your body..”

She drew her to him as a loud thunderbolt crashed in the distance. He went dazed with need as her hand pulled against the bindings of his breeks. He complied, bare before her once more as he responded to the guiding of her hands and mouth. Positioning him on top of her, her legs open and welcoming, her nipples flushed a dark pink.

He kissed her chest with abandon. The soft mounds of her breasts welcomed the explorations of his lips and tongue. She squeaked a bit when he reached her nipples, hungry for their taste like a newborn bairn. 

Jamie pulled back, mildly alarmed at the sound she’d made. He looked at her for reassurance that he was doing as he should. Claire smiled at his innocent hesitation and guided him back. He went eagerly. 

His hands travelled down her waist into her backside. This time it was he who groaned with pleasure when he encountered the rounded flesh. She had always thought that this part of her body was too pronounced but he didn’t seem to share that idea. In fact he seemed quite enthusiastic about it.

Claire let him explore her body even as she was taking pleasure in his. She was readying them for what was yet to come. She could feel the warm length of him growing more and more aroused while she became moist in anticipation. 

“Mistress” He whispered breathily. His lips were reddened and his face flushed. 

“Claire call me Claire.”

“Claire …I think I’m ready but I dinna want to hurt you.” His eyes were moist with emotion. 

Oh God what a treasure he was. Claire was captivated by him. 

“You won’t. Come to me Jamie, take me, let me show you love.”

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can clearly see the art of writing a sex scene has always eluded me. Please assume that a good time was had by all. We will pick up on the next morning as reality sets in. Also, I really thought about the idea of Jamie still being a virgin in his late thirties and how absurd that could be. I ultimately went with the canonical truth that Claire takes his virginity albeit much later than intended. I hope that is not too implausible. Good luck to those in the path of the storm. Stay warm.


	13. Chapter 13

The storm had finally abated and the first signs of a clear dawn could be seen from the window. Claire awoke to the solid weight of Jamie’s arm on her belly and his leg curled around hers. His face was hidden by the riot of faded red curls but she could see that he’d fallen asleep with a sweet smile on his lips. Having made him happy pleased her greatly. She had forgotten the joy of sharing her bed with a man especially one such as Jamie.

She’d been lonely for so long, concentrated solely on her son and his welfare and now there was him. During the night he had made her come alive with his touch, his passion and even his uncertainty. It wasn’t mere words that she’d said to him, she truly was honored to be the first woman to love him.

Jamie stirred in his sleep and drew her closer, nuzzling into her neck. She giggled at the feel of his stubble on her skin waking him. He lifted his head to peer at her. The tangled condition of his locks gave him great resemblance to an inquisitive, reddish hedgehog. 

“Good morrow milady.” He greeted her lovingly, 

“Good morning Jamie. Did you sleep well?”

He smiled broadly and kissed her shoulder. “Nay but a wink here and there but no it’s no matter. I’m hale enough if you wish to bless me again.”

She crinkled her nose at his terminology. “Bless you is it?”

“Aye because I feel like I’ve been consecrated when I’m inside of ye.”

She gave him a startled laugh. “Heavens Jamie, that’s completely sacrilegious. I thought you were a good papist.”

He grinned unabashedly and kissed her with something akin to religious fervor. Claire settled into the kiss, heated by his zeal, rocked by his budding efforts in the art of lovemaking. After only one night he was already growing into a beautifully sensual creature and she considered herself privileged to witness it.

His hands traveled the length of her body. She loved the feel of them, calloused and rough. They were the hands of the man that tended her stock, farmed her fields and slaughtered her meat. Now those hands were learning the secrets of her body just as skillfully as he’d done everything else. She was so grateful.

***  
A liitle while later they were resting in each other arms, sated in the afterglow. Claire’s fingers played with the long hair in his head relishing its soft texture. Jamie yawned sleepily and she wondered if he would let her dress the red locks like she’d seen other men wear theirs. It was very likely as he never denied her anything. The thought settled in her mind rather uncomfortably. She had all the power in this nascent relationship and she’d already used it against him.

“I’ll never wrong you again.” Claire promised quietly.

He sighed. “Dinna fash yourself lass. It’s passed.”

“Can you ever forgive me.”

“I dinna have anything to forgive you.” He assured her.

“Jamie I mistreated you so badly, I demeaned you…”. 

“I dinna have anything to forgive you because I have already forgiven you for everything you could ever do.”

“Oh.” 

“Yes.”

There was nothing to say to that. What could she add to such expression of devotion. 

They were quiet for a time, merely existing in each other’s presence. Soon enough it would be time to leave the cocoon of her bed and face the challenges of the day but for now there was just the two of them.

He sat up a little to stretch his painful back. She noted that the skin was tight around the heavier scars and this was likely making him uncomfortable. Claire rose from the bed and looked around for her shift.

“Where are you going Milady? It’s not morning yet.” 

Not finding her shift, she settled for tying a bedsheet around her body. “Ill be back in a moment. There is something I need to get from the surgery.”

It took her but a few minutes to locate the bottle of frankincense oil mixed with a few sprigs of rosemary. It was the best thing she had for scar tissue and would help give him some elasticity back so that he could move better.

When she returned she saw that Jamie was shaking out the bedsheets and straightening out the blankets. She set the bottle down by the bedside table and helped him fluff out the pillows. When their task was completed Jamie sank back to the mattress and tried to pull her to him but Claire did not budge.

“I need you to lie on your belly for a bit.”

“What for mistress?” He asked even as he was doing as she requested.

She took the bottle and showed him. “This is frankincense and Rosemary oil. It helps make scars better so they don’t pull so much.”

A strange look crossed his face. “Oh I thought that... never mind.”

“What is it Jamie?”

 

He swallowed visibly as if he were trying to ease pressure in his throath. “It’s just that I thought that you’ve gone to take something to prevent you from getting with child. I know you wouldn’t want any bairns from someone like me.”

“Oh Jamie I would love to bear your children no matter what but that will not be possible. I’m barren.” She admitted it simply but Jamie knew it was difficult for her to say. “This is why my husband and I adopted Fergus.”

“I’m sorry mistress I should have never presumed.”

She blinked rapidly. “You were right to ask but as you can see it’s not a concern. Your back however does concern me. Try to relax your muscles as I massage this in.”

He did as told and soon the pleasant aroma of the herbs spread across her room. Jamie groaned as the tight muscles loosened and the skin softened. Claire worked her fingers around the ugly latticework and thought of the viciousness endured by the man before her. 

“Can you tell me who flogged you Jamie?”she asked quietly and felt as his spine tensed beneath her roving fingers. 

Jamie was silent for a few moments and she figured he wouldn’t say anything. Claire went on with her ministrations and did not press upon it. She was a bit startled when he finally spoke. His voice was oddly detached as if he were telling something that happened long ago and to someone else.“It was a captain of the dragoons. His name is Randall like your late husband’s.”

“Jack Randall? He is my husband’s cousin. I met him once in London. I didn’t like him.”

“I dinna like him either. He had me flogged twice before Culloden. A hundred strokes each time.”

Claire was stunned at the cruelty. “Oh Jamie. Why did he hurt you?”

“Because Jack Randall has made it his life’s work to make my own as miserable as possible. I was naught but a lad of nineteen when I was first locked up in Fort Wentworth. I’d just had been flogged and was terribly scairt of the lash when captain Randall made it clear that I would be set free if I allowed myself to be buggered by him.”

Claire’s hands had stilled at his revelation. She set the oil aside and climbed into bed, letting him rest his head on her chest. Her arms went around him as if sheltering from the brunt of his memories and at the same time encouraging him to go on. He did.

“My father came to the prison to help me. He’d pleaded with Randall to let me go but the bastard would not. I did see my father for a little bit but that was enough to give me the strength to refuse him. He wasn’t happy and flogged me himself . My father watched him do it and died from the anguish of it all.”

“I’m so sorry Jamie.”

“Aye mistress but I canna but think that my Da would have lived if I let the bastard take me that day.”

“You can’t blame yourself, you did not hurt your father, Jack Randall did.”

He sniffed loudly. “Maybe but my pride was not worth my father’s life.”

Claire could not think of anything to say to him. She simply held him.

“Jack Randall did not take my body at Fort Wentworth but he took a lot of my soul when he came for me at Ardsmuir.”

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me if I do not post as frequently moving forward. I’m going back to work this week and I can tell by the dozens of emails that I have a lot waiting for me. I do have a lot of the next chapter written so I’m hopeful that I will be able to get it out soon. I have to warn you that it’s a somewhat angsty as we learn of one the events that made Jamie as broken as he was when we first encountered him. Thank you for your comments and criticisms. I truly appreciate both.


	14. Chapter 14

It had been the second year after they moved him from the communal cell to solitary confinement. He’d settled by then, his first year having been ruled by an uncontrollable rage that made him lash out at everything he could get his hands on, mostly himself. He’d been so tired, deadened by the cruelty afforded him and only him. Why couldn’t they just kill him? .

At the end his anger was extinguished by the futility of it all. He could rave and throw his tin of cold porridge or his waste bucket at the redcoats when they came for him but all it got him was another beating. There was nothing he could do to get them to release him from the dark, tomb-like cell. So he surrendered to the stone walls, to the hunger , to the desolation but mostly to the realization that he likely had merited what had happened to him. His sins were mortal.

Jamie would sleep most of the time, curled up in his threadbare blanket to ward off the perpetual chill. His dreams were kind, cheerful memories of Lallybroch, the mountains and the smell of the heather. He would wake up happy only to be flung back into the lonely hell he inhabited,

To lessen his misery he learned to exist like a grub that would bury itself underground to avoid the frost. To make his world only that small space under his blanket, without understanding of anything better.

The guards did not want to deal with his filth so they let him out to carry his waste bucket and dump it on a trench built in the back of the fortress. They always waited until it was late to do this so he would not encounter any of the other prisoners but once they must have miscalculated because they came upon the prisoner in charge of delivering the governor’s supper from the kitchen. Jamie’s shuffling gait and hunched over form startled Hayes who held on to the heavy tray with effort. His pale eyes were wide open trying to place the man before him until they alighted on the long reddish hair. 

“Mac Dubh?”

Jamie looked up. His own eyes bruised and far away. He was gripping his empty bucket with both hands close to his body to keep his chains from dragging too much. He barely felt when Hayes put something in the one remaining pocket of his jacket. He’d done it while still holding the tray, unseen by the guards who dragged Jamie back to his cell.

They pushed him inside because he always froze at the threshold, distressed at having to return to his bleak confinement. It took a while for his panic to abate at the sound of the heavy bolt being secured. He placed his bucket in its usual corner and sank into the opposing one. At least this time he hadn’t begged them not to lock him inside.

He located his blanket by touch, drawing it over his body when he remembered Hayes. Jamie opened his pocket to find a buttered dinner roll still warm from the oven. Without thinking he set upon the treat until he devoured the last crumb. He licked the sweet butter from his dirty fingers, savoring the rich taste. The porridge he got was usually the burned bits left in the pot after the rest of the Ardsmuir men had been fed. 

Jamie sighed wistfully when the butter was gone from his fingertips. God only knew when he have the chance at another treat like that, it seemed unlikely that he should be so lucky again.

He had noticed that a fine layer of snow had fallen on the grounds of the prison. It would be a new year soon he guessed, if not already. The trench where he emptied his bucket was icy. He’d had to struggle to keep his balance chained up as he was but it didn’t matter, he’d been let outside for a bit and he’d gotten to eat something good. He guessed he could consider that his Hogmanay gift.

Hogmanay, Yuletide, Solstice came and went and Jamie remained trapped in his cell like the dragonfly in amber he’d seen his friend Hugh Monroe carry. Once upon a time Jamie had been a Laird and Hugh a beggar but Jamie guessed that his friend had been the lucky one at the end. He had the freedom to roam and Jamie was withering away behind prison walls.

How much longer would he last? He knew he was weakening from the cold, the poor food and the loneliness. He guessed he would go mad as he was starting to talk to himself when it got too quiet. 

A few weeks later the stones in his cell were so frigid that he avoided leaning against them but the cold had already seeped into his bones. He felt achy and tired even though he had not moved from under his blanket except to drink water from his pitcher. They had not given him any porridge in a couple of days. He could only wonder what he could have done to earn that punishment even as the hunger pangs gripped his empty belly.

The next night he was so weak that he didn’t even notice when his door was unlocked until the guards stepped inside. They ordered him to stand and he tried but his legs did not obey him. Inpatient, they pulled him from the cell and dragged him across the prison to the private rooms where the officers stayed. He’d never been in one of them but relished the warmth and the thick rug felt through the holes in his shoes. There was a plate set there in a little table, roast pheasant with wine that smelled very good. He was so hungry that his mouth began to water with want of the meal but he stayed where they left him. The fire was lit as were the candles so it was bright. Jamie’s eyes were not used to the light anymore and he did not see really see when Captain Randall came into the room but suddenly he was standing before him. The prisoner thought he was a ghost conjured by his failing mind but he knew better. Jack Randall had survived Culloden and once more Jamie Fraser was at his mercy.

The captain looked at his prey. Jamie was shaking while trying to comfort himself with the idea that he likely wouldn’t want Jamie in his current condition. The prisoner was only skin and bones, his hair and beard were long and matted and he smelled terribly. None of that mattered to Randall. Fraser was fascinating as always. 

But this was a new version of Jamie. This man had no means to refuse him. He’d was starving as per Randall’s order and traumatized by his isolation. Easy pickings.

“Show me your scars.” He ordered coldly and Jamie winced but pulled his shirt up as much as his fetters would allow him.

Randall smiled at his handiwork, tracing the curved lines with his eyes but he did not reach for them. He would only touch Jamie when he begged for it.

“You truly are a magnificent work of art. However i do recognize stripes that are not my own. When did you get flogged?”

Jamie swallowed a few times before his voice was strong enough to answer. “I was sentenced to fifty lashes at my trial.”

“Ah yes. Fifty lashes and thirty-five years in prison for treason. I bet you were expecting to be hanged and being done with it.”

“Aye.”

“It took much wheedling in my part to get that sentence for you. You were an officer after all but with the help of a duke in my acquaintance the king chose a “kinder” fate for you than the rope.”

“‘Twas not kinder.”

“I suppose not. A quick death is much better than rotting away behind airless walls but I did not want you to die.”

Jamie looked at him straight on. Something shattered behind his blue eyes but he did not react.

“Do you know that I think of you often? When I lie in my bed at night I think of you shut away in the dark, hungry and suffering. I think of you losing your youth behind these walls, the fire fading from your hair, the light from your eyes. It gives me physical pleasure to think of you that way.”

Randall circled Jamie taking in the ruin of his body and appreciating every inch of the image. “I bring myself to climax at the thought of your chains. They must feel so heavy as you grow weaker. And yet this is not the real torture right?”

“No.” Jamie whispered, half choked with tears.

“The real torture is that no one will speak to you, no one will touch you. You are dying for someone to acknowledge that you are still a human being and not an insensible creature.”

It wasn’t a question but merely a statement but Jamie nodded nonetheless.

“So I ask you James Fraser. Do you want me to touch you?”

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait but work is overwhelming at this moment. I hope I was able to write Randall as reptilian as he is. I have the weekend and Monday off so I might get the second half of this in by then. I will try as I really want to see what happened between them that makes Jamie feel he lost part of his soul that night. Thanks for reading and commenting.


	15. Chapter 15

Claire was sitting up on the bed with her back against the half dozen pillows she favored. She’d put on her nightgown as the weather had turned in the aftermath of the storm. Jamie, with his internal furnace, was nude and curled up against her. His lower limbs entangled in hers as they had been throughout the night. She was touched by the way his body had sought hers even in the deepest sleep. Jamie always wanted to be near her and sharing a bed only accentuated that fact. 

Her fingers were threading through his long auburn locks. His hair was smooth but brittle at the ends. Later she would rub a bit of rose hip oil on them. He wanted her to cut his hair but it was too lovely to do so even with the silver streaks at the temples. The oil could also be used to soften the lines around his eyes and mouth. Neglect and poor nutrition had aged him past his years but he was still beautiful to her.

The gray light of early day could be seen through the curtains but neither made any move to rise. He’d been speaking to her in a low voice with little inflection. Lost in the darkness of an Ardsmuir punishment cell, he told her about Jack Randall and what had happened between them.

“I’m afraid if you learn of what occurred you will not see me as you do now. You might not even want me anymore.” he said quietly.

She leaned over and kissed the dip between his shoulder blades. The smoothness there broken by an ugly, knotted scar. “That will never happen. I won’t forsake you Jamie, I promise.”

He raised his head and looked into her eyes fully expecting pity but found something different in its amber depths. Jamie could not yet name it but it warmed his heart to know that his mistress felt for him maybe a bit of the love he carried for her.

With everything to lose Jamie swallowed his fear and told her.

 

Ardsmuir

 

So I ask you James Fraser. Do you want me to touch you?”

The “no” was stuck in his throat. Bound there by the conditions he lived in, by the misery and the soul-depleting loneliness of solitary confinement. He wanted to deny Randall but the bastard knew all too well what he’d done to Jamie. He’d made him into something less than human.  
The prisoner was a thing to throw scraps at, to drag down the corridors as one would a mutt, to laugh at when he stumbled. He wasn’t someone you spoke to or treated with any sort of dignity afforded a person. He wasn’t someone you touched except to punish. He was no one.

“Aye” he answered softly and hung his head. Tears of shame burned his eyes but he was so alone that he could not deny the truth. He was dying for someone’s touch.

Randall leered, his predator teeth showing. “Good.”

Leaving Jamie standing in the middle of the room, Randall sat down to his supper. The bird was uncommonly tender and the captain savored each bite knowing full well that the prisoner before him was weak with hunger. 

“What do they feed you Jamie?” He asked after sating one of his appetites.

“Cold porridge.” Jamie admitted, ashamed of the poor fare he lived on.

“And stew on Sundays?”

“I only get porridge.”

“Ah yes. You are a pariah even amidst the Scottish horde. Would you like some of this?” He said pointing to his unfinished meal. Jamie’s eyes darted to the remains. There was still a lot of succulent meat left in the carcass. His empty belly lurched with yearning for the food. They hadn’t given him anything to eat in days and likely wouldn’t even if he begged for it.

“Aye.” He said softly.

“Come to me then.”

Jamie stared at the floor beside Randall’s chair. The rug was thick and would feel good under his knees unlike the stone floor where he slept every night. He could kneel before the captain, rest his body from the weight of his chains and be fed. It would really good to eat something warm and with flavor and not just the burnt dregs of the common pot. He hadn’t any meat in years and missed it terribly.

The prisoner knelt, his chains clinking noisily against each other. He wore a great many of them tonight including one that wrapped around his belly keeping his shackled hands lowered to limit his movement. The guards had secured him so that he couldn’t be a threat to the captain, not that the broken highlander would be anyway and Randall knew this very well. Red Jamie had gone to seed.

If the warrior was no longer, if the laird had banished, what remained of Jamie Fraser? Randall pondered this as he fed the man bits of pheasant in wine sauce from his fork. He accepted every bite eagerly. His pink tongue savoring the rich taste as his eyes closed in enjoyment. It satisfied Randall to be the one granting him this one pleasure in a life completely devoid of any. 

The bird was consumed to the bone and Randall let Jamie have a few sips of wine. He watched the Highlander closely taking in the angle of his nose, the tender curb of his mouth and the blue in his eyes. He wanted to see more.

Randall stepped outside the room to call for a guard to bring him a basin of water, a straight razor and a cake of soap. Jamie remained on his knees not having been given permission to rise. A few moments later a young redcoat brought the required implements and set them on the table, taking the meal tray with him. Without asking, Randall brought Jamie’s chin up in his hand and lathered his beard. The strong smell of lye assailed his nose but a savage like Jamie would be used to it. As it was the prisoner did not complain as the captain removed his beard.

“You are so subdued , nothing like the wildcat I encountered at Lallybroch. Then you would have gouged my eyes if I dared touch you as I am doing now. All it took was two years in the dark by yourself to bring you to this state. You know, i spoke to Lord Gray about you and he has no plans of letting you out of that cell. You’ll die alone Jamie and they will bury your body in the prison graveyard with the other unclaimed wretches.” He said indifferently as if he were talking about the weather and not the life of the man before him.

A soft, strangled sound slipped from Jamie’s lips causing Randall to nick the skin in his neck. A single drop of red blood appeared which the captain wiped away with a towel. “If I were a different type of man I would slit your throat and allow you a kinder end but I will not. I like you here too much to do so.”

Randall put the razor back in the table and wiped The lather from Jamie’s face. He saw that the man was obviously disquieted by the fate he had described.

“Do not worry, I’ll give you something to remember when the darkness and the silence becomes too oppressive.”

The captain slowly guided Jamie back to his feet until they were face to face. Without his beard, Jamie looked younger and the anguish in his face made him beautiful to a sadist like Randall. His long fingers trailed against the smooth cheek and the deep hollows of his thin face settling on the fleshy lips. 

He kissed him with teeth, lips and tongue. It wasn’t a tender kiss but one of possession laced with violence. Jamie struggled and tried to muster enough force to push him off. His chains gave him little opportunity to fend off Randall’s assault so he was caught in the man’s punishing embrace. 

“Let go of me you bastard.” He growled.

Randall held him closer. “You’ll have nothing else, no one else Jamie, just this.”

The blue eyes narrowed in fury. “Get off me now.”

“Fine then.” He pushed the man aside making him collide painfully with the table. He called for the guards who came quickly. 

“Take this prisoner back to his cell. Leave the extra shackles to remember me by.” The redcoats did as told and as they were dragging Jamie away Randall addressed him one last time. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t matter anymore.”

Jamie stared at him as he was once again led to his hell but now with the knowledge of its cruel, inevitable permanence. The dark would consume him until he became a forgotten husk of a man. He would never leave it alive.

 

North Carolina 

“T’was was the night I lost hope I think. I had thought until then that I would be released from the punishment cell if I was good and did as told but Randall knew otherwise. I would rot there and that was hard to bear. I was really bad off after that. I saw shapes that moved in the dark, and heard whispers from people I knew were dead. My father, my mother, my uncles. They all spoke to me relentlessly. I think I went mad and stayed that way until I was brought here.”

“Oh Jamie.” She pulled him closer feeling the pull of the terrible memories on him. He went eagerly, seeking her touch. 

They made love slowly and with great care. Learning each other’s bodies as they fit into one another. Claire relished the weight of him pressing against her smaller body. His musky scent settling on her skin. His raw masculinity overwhelming her senses with long forgotten pleasure. For Jamie she was hope itself. The flame of his soul he’d long believed had been extinguished. She was also his mistress and she alone would determine his destiny. The thought gave him peace.

And in that morning as they came together magic happened.

Tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait. Work is really difficult now especially as I am trying to play catch up while dealing with new issues as they arise. I am also having some difficulty writing this as it is not flowing anymore and this is why the ending seems off. Thank you for your comments. I hope some of you are still interested in this because as long as you are I will try my best.


	16. Chapter 16

She kept her rarest herbs in the topmost compartment of a tall cabinet, well away from any heat source to preserve their potency. Here Claire had her wild quinine flowers, her artemisia and her blue cohosh. She took the cloth bag containing the roots of the last and laid it across her work table. There would just be enough for what she needed to do.

The roots would need to steep in boiled water for at least a day. When the infusion was ready it would be strained through a bit of cloth just so that it would be filtered from impurities. The resulting liquid needed to be consumed every two hours for a day to ensure its intended purpose. 

It was a fairly simple preparation. What it did was anything but simple. 

Claire had decided to ask Jamie to take Fergus hunting for large game. Such excursions would usually take a day or two which would be enough time for the blue cohosh to do what she meant for it to do. 

Her hands travelled to the tiny swelling just barely there under her stays, the little quiver of something growing in her. A most unexpected miracle for a woman who thought she could never be a mother. She’d felt its presence often in the last week and realized that she could not wait any longer. It had to happen now even though it would break her heart.

What she didn’t know was if she was strong to tell him. Jamie would want his baby. He would love it and so would she but the truth was that she was unmarried, broke and the father was not free.

Claire knew that he would marry her if he were able but he had no rights including that of taking a wife. She owned him on paper but in reality he was property of the crown and could be returned to prison at any time if they deemed it so. There was no doubt in her mind that Jamie would be punished for getting his mistress with child even if she let them know that the relationship had been her choice as well as his.

She could not allow that to happen. The infusion would bring about her courses and the pregnancy would be flushed out of her body. If everything went as it should there would be no lasting effects except cramping and bleeding for a few days. Nothing she could not deal with.

But It was Jamie’s child she would be giving up. The offspring of the man she loved more and more each day. It would break him to know but she couldn’t keep it to herself. He had the right to mourn the loss alongside her.

-*-*-*-*-*

He came to her as he’d done every night for the last six weeks. Even after all this time he was still thrilled and happy to be near her. He was all smiles and kisses and long limbs wrapped tightly around her body. Tonight he hadn’t even asked to come into her but rather had used his adept hands and intoxicating tongue to make her climax while he watched mesmerized.

At last she rested against him, boneless from the exertion and quiet from the weight of what she had to confess. Jamie held her, whispering sweetly into her hair.

“Mo nighean donn you are so bonny.”

She twisted to her side and laid her cheek on the bronze hairs of his chest. “What does that mean?”

“It means my brown haired lass. I’ve been meaning to say that to you.”

“I’ve always thought that brown was a dull color to have. Nothing special like red.” As she said that she somehow knew that their child would have his beautiful russet hair and sapphire eyes.

He chuckled and Claire heard the adoring timbre in his reply. “Not dull at all. It’s like the water in a burn, where it ruffles over the stones. Dark in the wavy spots and streaked with silver moonlight.”

They fell silent then, breathing each other in. Their bed was the haven where they came together and told each other of the deepest secrets in their hearts. It was also a place where they could be simply still and safe in each other’s presence. 

“Jamie…I’m pregnant.”

Time stopped and Claire waited with baited breath. 

His cry of delight startled her as did his arms going around her form, enveloping her in his warmth. A dozen kisses were lovingly placed around her shoulders. When she turned around to face him, there were happy tears in his eyes and her heart sunk. She could see the hope in them, the joy at the gift she’d bestowed to a man who had nothing to call his own for years. He was smiling so wide at her but could not yet find the words to express what he was feeling. 

“We can’t have a baby Jamie. I can’t keep it.” she said softly.

He froze and the happiness slid from his face like rainwater. “No?” Jamie’s voice was a confused whisper.

Claire turned away not wanting to see his confusion turn into horror at the realization of what she would do to his child.

“There are herbs that will end the pregnancy. It’s early enough that it shouldn’t be too risky, I think.” she told him. 

“My bairn won’t be born?” The question was barely audible.

She shook her head. “No Jamie. I’m so sorry but you must see that we cannot bring a child into our lives. We are not married and I don’t have any money left but most of all it isn’t safe for you. You know this.”

“Aye. But that isn’t the wee bairn’s fault, it’s mine. Why should my baby pay for the sins of its sire?” He was distressed and his words raw with emotion. 

“Jamie I love you and I won’t lose you. I once told you that I would be honored to carry your child and I am but I cannot let them take you from me.”

Her words brooked no disagreement and Jamie had long since learned to submit. He hung his head and accepted her will as she was his mistress. Inside a war was being waged between his need to obey her and the need to protect his own. 

“When will you do it?”

“In two days time. I think is best if you take Fergus hunting. I don’t want him to know.”

“Aye. I’ll take the lad to the mountains but I beg you not to do this. The bairn is an innocent. Let the punishment fall on me for I deserve it for loving its mother when I had no right to do so.”

Claire heard the truth in his words. To protect his child, Jamie would be willing to suffer imprisonment and separation. He would bear the much feared lash and even the hanging scaffold. It was who he was but she too was equally committed to protecting him.

“I’m sorry Jamie.”

That night no one slept. Jamie turned away from her and curled into a ball of misery. Claire longed to comfort him but she too was devastated. When the morning came she dropped the roots in the boiling water and removed the pot from the hearth to infuse. She placed it inside the pie safe so he wouldn’t have to look at it but only Fergus came to breakfast. Claire was loving to her son knowing that it was also his future that she was protecting.

She didn’t see Jamie until the night when he climbed into her bed. He was subdued but held her until she fell asleep safe in his embrace. 

It was close to dawn when she awoke to the sound of his whispers as he spoke to his child for the first and last time.

“I’m sorry mo chridhe. I do not have a way to protect your wee life. Your father is naught but a slave and canna give you anything… canna ask for anything but my love I want ye so much. You are my most beautiful dream but you are not to be.” He choked back a sob. “But dinna worrit, ye will be happy with the angels. It will be so bonny in heaven with fields of sweet heather and the green mountains like Scotland in the spring. I’ll pray to my sister that she’ll watch over you my little one.”

Claire felt the light touch of his hand on her swelling abdomen. It was reverent and full of love for his unborn child. The baby that she’d denied him without truly taking his feelings into account. 

“I will remember you, I promise I will pray for you every day so you’ll know your da loved you verra much.”

He didn’t say anything after that but she could hear him falling to pieces next to her. Her own tears wetting the pillow beneath her. 

*_*-*-*-*-

 

The next morning his question was simple but so devastating.

“Will there be a body?”

Claire stopped her preparations. She’d been bringing in towels to her bedroom for the heavy bleeding she would be experiencing in a few short hours. The blue cohosh have been strained and waited in a pitcher in her kitchen table. She would begin taking it when he left with Fergus.

“Yes. It will be very small and not very well formed but there will be something.”

“Can you give the baby to me? I made a wee box… there’s a tree with verra pretty flowers and I would like to bury my bairn underneath it. If you dinna mind.”

She nodded and looked away from the agony in his eyes. She’d seen him at his lowest but she’d never seen him so defeated as he was now before her.

“Then mistress I will leave ye to it now. Please take good care of yourself and I will be back tomorrow with Fergus. I love you.”

Claire did not have a chance to reply as he closed the door behind him. At last she was finally alone… well not alone.

Her fingers ghosted through the homespun of her midsection. She’d skipped her stays that morning and felt the soft bump through the material of her dress. Claire imagined what the tiny thing inside of her would look like now.. Had the limbs already formed? Could it feel her touch when she pressed her fingers on the swelling? Would it rest comfortably in the wooden box its father had made instead of a cradle?

The thought made her sick and she almost vomited the bit of hard bread she’d been able to eat earlier. She sat down on her kitchen chair looking directly at the amber liquid sitting so innocently in the table. Her stomach recoiled and she swept the pitcher off the table and into the floor. 

She loved this baby, she loved its father. There was no way on earth she could hurt either of them. With truth came peace. Claire would be a mother again. Her body would bring forth an entirely new person into the world.

Jamie would be so happy. 

It would be very difficult and they would be risking so much but it would be worth it at the end she hoped . They would be together.

The door was thrown open suddenly and Jamie rushed inside. He was out of breath and shaking from the exertion of running from the edge of her lands. His eyes were bright with emotion as he saw her sitting in the chair. Without a word he lifted her into his arms and sat them on the floor. The pitcher was lying next to them emptied of its terrible liquid.

“Did you take it?” He croaked fearfully.

“No. I’m not going to.” She answered with all the conviction she could muster. Jamie gasped for breath.

“I thought I could bear it but I canna. You’re mine and the bairn and wee Fergus and I will keep you all. I will not let ye be taken from me as everything else once was. I will not lose my family again.”

He kissed her, passionately but harshly, castigating her for threatening what he held most dear

“No matter what I am to bear I will do so gladly. I will protect all of ye to my last breath. I will work my fingers to the bone so that you may have a roof over your heads and a good meal in yer belly. This I pledge to ye.” He promised.

They were still holding out to each other when Fergus came into the room. The boy hesitated only briefly before he too was swept into their embrace. They were a family and no matter what lay in their future they would face it together.

 

End part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thank you so much for your response. It really did help with the block. As you can see we are moving forward in the story and the next chapter will pick up some months (maybe a few years) in the future. Clearly they cannot stay in North Carolina but the past will eventually find a way to catch up to them. I do not yet know if the babe is Bree or Faith or someone entirely new. I have a feeling daddy Jamie will be thrilled either way.


	17. Interlude: Jamie

My bairn was born in the middle of a warm summer night. Claire’s pains had come a little after midday but she paid them no mind until late afternoon when she grabbed my hand and told me to send Fergus for the midwife. My brave boy rushed as if lit on fire for the elderly widow that took care of the birthing mothers in these parts.

I carried my lady to our bed carefully laying her across the quilts. She’d long since forgone her stays so I only had to remove her blue cotton dress which I did carefully not wanting to cause her or the child within any harm with my clumsiness. 

“It’s alright. The baby and I will be well Jamie. It’s going to be difficult but it’s all normal and our little one will come through just fine I promise.”

Even in her current state Claire was worried for me. She’d told me when we left North Carolina behind, that I should no longer consider myself her slave. There could not be any formal vows between us except for those in our hearts but I was her husband nonetheless. It caught me unawares for I considered myself her servant even more so now that she carried my child. 

My child. What a gift for a man who thought the future held no meaning for him but surviving each miserable day. I did not reply to my lady but could only kiss her in gratitude for what she was willing to do for me.

When the midwife came I was summarily dismissed from the bedroom. She had no patience for worried fathers and I was almost in a state of near panic at seeing Claire suffer so. 

I joined Fergus in the kitchen. The boy was sitting in a chair by the kitchen table with a glass of milk in front of him. He had not touched it even though we had not eaten much of anything that day. Fear for Claire had shrunk our considerable appetites.

“It will be alright laddie. Yer ma is the strongest and bravest woman I know.” I said soothingly trying to assail my own anxiety, Fergus nodded.

“My mama promised me that nothing would happen to her or the bebè. She has never broken her promise so I believe her.”

I agreed with him and we sat in silence for a few moments. Both of us were startled by a very loud moan emanating from the bedroom. The pain had increased substantially as the child neared its arrival.

“Do you think mama is going to love the baby more than me because it came from her and not from an orphanage?” Fergus asked suddenly betraying what else had been on his mind. I shook my head and put a hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

“Nay laddie. You are your mama’s true child and she loves you something fierce as she will the bairn.”

“And you?” the boy asked me quietly. His eyes were dark and expectant.

I took a breath and told him what was in my heart.

“If it wasn’t for you Fergus I’d still be the miserable wretch toiling under the lash that I was when you and your ma came to heal me. If you hadn’t felt sorry for me and convinced your mother to take me on I would have sold to some other bastard who would have worked me to death. I love you Fergus and I am so grateful for your kindness and willingness to care for a worthless slave like me.”

Fergus considered my words carefully. “I wasn’t just sorry for you Jamie, I mean I was because Murchison was cruel to you but that wasn’t all. What I really wanted was for you to be a part of our family. My mama liked you and she was lonely and so was I because father was gone. I thought you might need us as much as we needed you.”

The sweet lad’s words touched me deeply. I had considered myself little more that a beast of burden then but Fergus had seen a man worthy enough to take into his own family.

“Thank ye Fergus you honor me truly. This bairn is going to have an exceptional brother to look up to and to follow. Promise me if I cannot be there for any reason you will show him or her how to be in the world…son,” 

The sting of tears prickled my eyes. Fergus was tearing up as well but had a smile on his face. I was so proud of the son I’ve been granted and the child that was coming. 

We waited patiently for a few more hours and then the stillness of the night was pierced by the sweetest cry. The bairn was here.

It felt like an age before the midwife allowed us to see Claire and the child. My son and I jumped up from our seats when she finally called us to enter the room but I froze in the doorway at the most beautiful sight in the world: Claire with a tiny babe at her breast. Her damp hair curling around her face which was completely taken with the brand new life in her arms. She looked exhausted but her smile was wide and brilliant when she motioned us to her side. 

My heart beat wildly when she uncovered the bairn’s sweet face and its unfocused blue eyes opened wide to greet its family

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Much later Fergus and Claire had fallen asleep in the same bed where they had been admiring the perfectly swaddled baby. The bairn was milk-drunk and too exhausted from its tiring day to do much more than blink while yawning like a kitten. I found myself that I couldn’t sleep as the realization about what I had been given weighed heavily on my heart. There was so much to protect now as there was so much to lose.

I took the child into my arms and the baby awoke to stare into my face looking rather worried at being taken from the source of ready milk and warmth. I smiled and kissed the sweet, downy head.

“You are a braw laddie Willie but you’re so wee. Dinna fash yourself. Your da is here.” I promised to my son.

TBC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief interlude before we get back into the meat of the story. We pick up again a few years later when the threat of discovery (and a looming revolution) threaten the family. Thank you to everyone for your comments and kudos. I hope I was able to capture Jamie’s voice.


	18. Chapter 18

Willie knew that something was going on with his mum and da. Mind, they were still sickenly sweet with each other which made Willie a little uncomfortable . His da was always kissing his mum and hugging her which was all kinds of ickiness but at least they weren’t fighting all the time like his friend’s Rabbie’s parents. 

But sometimes it seemed like something was troubling them. His mum would look uneasy and would not relax until his da reassured her that everything would be fine and that nothing would ever pull them apart. Willie only wished someone would tell him what was wrong but they wouldn’t because he was only five and the baby of the family.

His brother Fergus told him not to worry himself. That whatever happened they would deal with it together. Willie always listened to his big brother because he always gave the best advice. That’s why all the younger boys wanted to be like Fergus and all the girls wanted to kiss him.

Willie’s da had decided that it would be best for Willie to keep himself busy. So he would pick up Willie after school and bring him to his print shop. Da had him clean up a bit and sometimes even help set the type. This made Willie feel like an adult because he was doing something to help feed his family. Da always said that that was what men were supposed to do and Willie agreed because his sire was very wise.

The young boy suspected that something bad had happened to his father that affected him even now. His back was very marked and when Willie asked about it his father replied that he’d been punished for making a mistake. Willie felt angry when he imagined that someone would hurt his da like that. His father said that in the past lots of people hurt him until his mum came and rescued him. Willie thought that was strange because it was usually the prince that rescued the princess and not the other way around. His da said that every story was different and that this was theirs.

Willie did not really understand what that meant but he trusted that it was a good thing. His mum and his da were happy with each other as were Fergus and Willie himself. 

So he shouldn’t be worried except that he couldn’t help it. He just knew that something was about to happen that would change everything he had known in his short life.

Willie was right. It was the summer of 1774 and the world was about to turn upside down.

*x*x*x*x

Alexander Malcolm shared his younger son’s misgivings on what fate held for his family. It was a very volatile time and he was very worried about their welfare. Right and left the signs of an upcoming conflict stared him in the face as a they had done before Culloden. That battle had taken his freedom and condemned him to a hellish existence but at then it was only him that had suffered. Now he had a wife and two sons to care for which made the stakes that much higher. He desperately wanted to keep them safe but at the same time he could not but support the colonial cause and what it meant for their future. Claire called him her husband but until he had his freedom he couldn’t marry her. His beloved Willie was a bastard and he was one unfortunate day away from being caught and sent back to slavery if not death.

He would not let his family see him in chains, he would kill himself first. His son would never have to watch his father tied down and whipped like an animal. Such things would shame Willie for the rest of his life.

In the meantime they hid in plain sight He was able to apprentice with a retiring printer and took to the trade very quickly. For a man used to toiling in sweltering fields, printing pamphlets and books in a shop was fairly easy. He liked the craft and as an educated man, he could appreciate the fruits of his labor.

Lately such fruits had taken a decidedly seditious quality. Many a pamphlet bearing his assumed name spoke of freedom from British oppression, of the natural right of men to pursue their own destiny. He was truly testing fate and this made Claire nervous but he couldn’t stop. He hated what the English had done to him and what they had made of him. He was a conquered foe that merited the hangman’s noose but they chose to instead completely annihilate his dignity as a human being. To make him beg for a scrap of food, to make him plead for an end to his cruel isolation. They had done too much for him to just forget. He needed to do something.

His oldest son shared his father’s enthusiasm. Fergus could be found in the thick of the clandestine meetings that had sprung ever since the passage of the Stamp Act all those years ago. The young man had been in Boston when a shipment of tea was released in the harbour. He’d recounted the tale for Claire and him at least a dozen times. Willie had been enthralled and Jamie wished he could have seen it for himself. He did use Fergus’ account to write about it in an article which was readily dispersed.

So in this small way he was rebelling and wondered just how far he would go. Where would they be when things became too volatile in the face of the ensuing war?

As restless as he felt, there was always Claire to see him well. He would come home at night to their tiny apartments located over an apothecary that Claire worked out of as a healer and felt as if he could finally breathe. His beloved gave him strength and his love for her gave him courage. Their children were the light that moved them forward afraid but with hope that their family would be safe.

Tonight it was no different. Willie had fallen asleep as he was being carried home in his father’s arms. The little boy was a welcome and familiar weight. A trace of his baby smell lingered in his hair and his father breathed him in remembering the many nights rocking his wee bairn to sleep by the fireplace.

He reached his home and carefully maneuvered up the stairs with his precious burden. Willie stirred a bit but was still when he opened the door. Any other night he would find his lady waiting for him by the fire usually working on her mending but tonight the hearth was unlit and the apartment cold. 

A feeling of unease settled in his heart as he placed his son on the divan. Where was Claire?

He did have not long to worry before she came through the door. Her face was pale and she looked highly distraught. She went to her young son as if to ascertain that he was there and then opened her arms to embrace his father.

“My lady... what’s amiss.”

“Oh God Jamie. I saw him”. She answered, her voice trembling with dread.

Jamie knew that it would be very bad for them. Was it Murchison? Christie? 

“Who? Who did ye see Claire?”

“Jack Randall.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so blocked with this story that this chapter was a struggle which I am sure you can tell. Please be a little patient as I am determined to finish this. If you have any ideas please feel free to share as I am lacking in inspiration. Thanks for reading and commenting.


	19. Chapter 19

Jamie did not sleep that night. He managed to doze a bit but was awoken when his dreams became disjointed images of the past with one prevalent image: Captain Randall looking at him as a wolf would a trapped lamb and savoring Jamie’s profound misery.

He did not know why the captain hated him so. Why he had always craved to see him defeated and humiliated. In Ardsmuir, Jamie had been a prisoner completely destroyed by the cruelty of his isolation, barely fed and kept like an animal in a tiny stone cell. He’d been skeletal and grim. More a specter than a human being and yet Randall had wanted to bring him down even further. With nothing left to fight for and guilt crushing his spirit, Jamie had just let it happen. Randall had treated him like a dog and fed him from his hand. He’d made the prisoner admit that he was dying to be touched, to be acknowledged as someone apart from the wretched creature rotting in the darkness. But what Jamie hadn’t given Randall that terrible night was the last bit of his soul. That he’d given Claire alongside his wounded heart.

And now Randall was back and Jamie realized that he was still in that dark cell. He was still hurting, still bleeding and that man was ready to feed off him once more.

“We need to leave.” Claire whispered in deference to Fergus and Willie sleeping in the next room. She too could not find her rest but lay beside him as she had every night since they had come together. 

Jamie shook his head sadly. “We would just run away until someone else from my past else finds us. My sons dinna deserve that. You dinna deserve that my lady.”

“Jamie your sons do not deserve to lose their father and I the love of my life. We can all start again somewhere else. Anywhere else as long as we are together.” she pleaded.

He wouldn’t budge. “I willna have my family hiding like rats. ‘Tis not a proper way to live and I willna ask it of ye. No. Better his wrath falls on me alone. I’m used to it.”

Claire drew an exasperated breath. “You bloody hero. I’m your wife if not by law then by everything else that holds a man and a woman together. Your fate is my fate.” 

“Nay my lady. I willna have it so.”

Jame turned away from her but in the dim light from the dying fireplace she saw the heartbreak in his eyes. He was preparing himself to lose everything again. 

“Jamie?”

“You asked me once about my family in Scotland.” he began softly.

She nodded remembering the day. “You said that they were all gone.”

“Aye. They were... for me. I lost them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I did something very bad... unforgivable, and I was cast out.”

Claire had never asked knowing that his past was deeply painful but now it was coming directly from him. “What happened Jamie?” she ventured quietly.

Jamie breathed out as if he were strangled by the weight of his confession. “I killed my sister and her unborn bairn”

She sat up in their bed startled by what she heard. “I don’t believe that. You could never do such a thing.”

His words were unwavering as if reciting a long held truth that had been internalized in the depths of his soul.. “T’was my fault. Her death and that of young Ian. The wee lad hadna even opened his eyes when he died.”

“What happened? Jamie please tell me.”she pleaded. He looked at her and in the fading light he only saw the halo of her tangled hair. Jamie was glad of it for if he could have seen her eyes, he wouldn’t have continued.

“After Culloden I was hiding in Lallybroch. They were still hanging traitors to the crown and I was deemed one of them. I was living inside a cave and would come down to the house naught but once every moon.”

She thought of him living under such terrible circumstances. “Oh Jamie.”

“T’was fine. I could hunt for them. I could see them sometimes. I knew they cared for me and were willing to protect me as they could.”

The fire had finally gone out but neither made a move to rekindle it. It was better to speak in the dark. She did not see his tears nor him hers.

“And then the redcoats started coming less and I got cocky. I started staying over the house, sharing meals with them. My sister Jenny was expecting a bairn and I wanted to be there for the birth. I loved the wee ones and they loved me. I dinna think that I would ever have any of my own.”

Claire knew he adored children. Their Willie was his own heart’s blood and he had guided Fergus through the last years of his childhood patiently and with love. There was no better father than her Jamie. 

“And then they came and I hid but someone had told them that I was there. There was a price on my head and it was a high one. the tenants were desperately poor so I should have expected for it to happen.”

He paused a bit as if trying to garner strength to continue. “They came and Jenny... she tried to hide me in her room and I knew that I should have just given myself up but I dinna want to leave my home. I was a coward and just hid as she went to confront them. I heard a shot and I came out to see them push her aside like she was nothing. She hit the chest of drawers and fell down hard on her belly. I knew that it was bad and went to her just as the bleeding started. The redcoats pulled me away and I was screaming and Ian was trying to carry her to the bed and calling for help. A redcoat soldier hit me on the head with his bayonet and I knew no more.”

“Jamie you do not have to tell me more love. I understand.”

He went on unheeding of her plea. The dam had finally broken and all he could do was let the anguish of many years flow into the surface. 

“No you don’t. I was taken to Inverness to be tried. They sentenced me and left me at the lockup there for a few months until they could transfer me to Ardsmuir. Ian came to me and told me that my sister and her son had died due to my cowardice. The English courts would also take Lallybroch because it had been harboring a criminal. Everything was gone because of me. He also said that I dinna have a family anymore and even if I was ever released that I was on my own“

Her heart broke for him at the cruel pronouncement. She saw the young frightened man he’d been facing a lifetime in a cell and being told he no longer had anyone left to care for him. This must have destroyed him even before the years of unspeakable cruelty had a chance to do so. It was of no wonder how utterly broken he’d been when she first met him. 

“I don’t think Ian truly meant that. He was just hurt and angry and the pain was too raw yet.” she said plaintively.

A half- strangled sob decried her words. “How could he not Claire? I took everything from them. If I had died in the war they would still have each other and their home. I destroyed their lives. T’is the plain truth.”

He turned towards her, seeking comfort which she granted without reservation. Her arms cradled his form as she often did their youngest. She let him cry. He was heartbroken and scared. The reappearance of Captain Jonathan Randall had brought his deepest pain to the surface.

“It does not matter what I’ve done to atone. It could never be enough to offset my sins. I deserve everything that I suffered. I ken that, but you and our weans do not. Claire, I canna stay wi’ ye but know that ye are...”

“Hush. Do not think that I will let you leave me, leave us. You are my life Jamie. I cannot see myself without you anymore.”

“But you must mo nighean donn. You are strong, so much more than I. You found a poor, broken down slave and made him feel like a man again. You raised Fergus to be a man of worth and brought forth our Willie. There is no woman stronger than you mo chridhe. All I ask that you find that strength again and forget me.”

Claire was adamant. “No. I refuse. You cannot just give up Jamie. We are a family and we will never turn our backs on each other. I promise you we will find a way out of this.” 

Jamie responded by kissing her softly. His lips were sweet and warm as she pressed them against her. She responded in kind.

“Och my lady. What have I ever done to have you?”

“Everything Jamie. Never forget that you deserve happiness... that you deserve to be loved. I know that you think that you’ve been blighted by your past but that’s not true. I love you. I never loved another man as I do you. We’ve been blessed with our children and if we are to fight to keep them we will do so. Nothing that Captain Jonathan Randall can do will tear us apart. I need you to believe that. Will you?”

He did not reply but merely took her hand in his and brought it to his heart. She could feel the steady beat beneath her fingers. It was strong and true and she knew that it was all for her.

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long wait. This story is a little challenging as it draws to its conclusion. To all those that have commented that you for letting me know that you are still interested. I will do my best to get chapters out in a more timely manner.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stumbled upon this chapter that I had not included in the beginning of the story. I hope it does not interrupt the flow too much. I have a couple more but I may not be able to fit them into the storyline as it is now. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment.

Claire’s promise and her commitment to him humbled him. He hadn’t expected to find such love in his life after all that he had lost but he had. She’d come to him at his lowest and managed to make him feel like a human being. It had always been her way.

 

*****Seven years ago*****

 

He’d had been lashed the night before and his shoulders felt raw and tender. It was hard to move his arms around. Jamie did not think the skin had been broken except over his right shoulder blade. There was a bit of blood there but it was of no consequence. He had grown used to his master’s frequent punishments.

At least this time he hadn’t taken Jamie’s food away. The slave counted on his bit of porridge to get him through the day. Without it even walking became a chore. 

His master was a cruel man who showed only disdain for his hapless slave. He’d set Jamie to turn a field that was mostly a rocky outgrow with a little soil. It would be impossible to grow anything there but it didn’t matter. Jamie was to find a way to raise a crop in the barren field.

He was worn down and getting even more so as he grew older. His body had begun to fail him. His joints ached in the morning and often he had a debilitating pain down his back. Often his arms felt heavy as he went about his work. Jamie wondered what would happen to him once he became unable to labor the fields. Would he be returned to prison or simply left to starve until God decided to take with Him? He’d prefer the latter from ending his days in the darkness of a cell. 

His thoughts were grim but so was his fate. He would die in chains and his bones would be buried in an unmarked grave far from Scotland and the Lallybroch graveyard where his family rested.

He supposed it wouldn’t matter. Lallybroch did not belong to the Frasers anymore. He himself did not belong to the Frasers anymore. He was nothing and had nobody and that would never change.

With acceptance came a sort of peace. Jamie was resigned to living the life that was set before him with its never ending toil, abuse and loneliness. It was an existence completely devoid of any hope. There was no bright spot except for her.

Mrs. Randall...Claire.

He smiled a little thinking of the beautiful Englishwoman who had come to heal him when he lay to ill too get up. Jamie remembered the feel that of her soft hands on his fevered skin. His weakness had kept him pliant to her attentions and he could only watch as she doused him with a variety of concoctions meant to strengthen his struggling lungs. 

Jamie had been near death and she had battled tirelessly to help him. She and Fergus were the first people who saw him as if he were still a person and one worthy of care. He had been confused by such treatment, baffled by the idea that someone saw him as something else besides the old, damaged property that he was.

So he had begun to love her then. It was a humble type of love, silent and expecting nothing. He was content to watch her from afar the few times she passed by the fields on her way to see a patient. She was bonny and always waved to him. Sometimes she would stop and he would make his way towards her eager to have a chance to hear her voice. 

There was no doubt in his mind that Mrs Randall felt sorry for him. How could she not? He was malnourished and his master had not provided him with any clothing besides the rags he’d been wearing for years. His body was battered from harsh punishments and endless labor. She was a lady of compassion and he no doubt the recipient of such sentiment.

He sighed and dug his shovel under a stubborn rock. Maybe in another life he could have aspired to a woman like mistress Randall. He imagined what it would have been to meet her when he was still hale and whole. When he was the Laird of Lallybroch and held his head high. Would she have found something worth loving in the impetuous and proud man he’d been? He liked to think that she would and that maybe that she still could.

It was silly really but such a dream provided a comfort of sorts.

Jamie was barefoot and encrusted with dirt. It was very warm so his threadbare shirt was hung in a fence. It was this sight that greeted Claire as she traversed the road before him. 

His heart started beating faster upon seeing her and he lowered his eyes as he set his shovel down. Claire pulled at the reins of her horse to stop the carriage. Her own heart clenched at seeing his back. He’d been lashed again and the marks had joined the myriad of scars disfiguring his skin.

Oh Jamie.

She had a soft spot for the sweet, quiet slave. He was worked to exhaustion and abused needlessly. She didn’t understand why Murchison found it necessary to treat Jamie in such a way. She was already reaching inside her medicine bag for the salve and diluted alcohol when he reached her.

“Dinna bother Mistress Randall, t’is not a great pain” he said softly.

“Nevertheless you need care or it could become inflamed. Let me see to it Jamie, please”

He nodded and let helped her down from the carriage. He couldn’t help but appreciate the feel of her under her blue muslin dress. She was wearing a wide brimmed straw hat trimmed with a yellow ribbon. Her pretty hair was pinned underneath it and he wished he could see her curls untamed just once.

She was gentle as she washed his wound and covered it with salve. It wasn’t too deep that it would need to be dressed but he would likely have yet another scar. Claire caressed the abused flesh, examining the pattern that the lash had carved in his back. It was a testimony to the cruelty he’d been put through. 

“T’is a right pitiful sight but it does not cause any more pain.” He assured her 

Claire traced a particularly ugly scar with her finger. “Did it happen all at once.”

He shook his head. “Nay my lady. I’ve been whipped often.”

“In prison?”

“Aye, in the beginning. I dinna always behave for my jailors. I think I was too young to understand that I was to live caged up like an animal. I had to be whipped into submission but now I know that t’is my lot,”

His acceptance struck her as being very wrong “Your lot in life is being abused?”

“Doing what I’m told to do or be punished if I don’t. But its of no consequence mistress Randall. I’m no one important and you dinna need to worry about me.”

“Don’t say that Jamie. Everyone is worthy.”

“No’ a slave mistress. And especially not me. I’m old and weak. My master is angry that I canna do what he expects of me. That’s why I was lashed.” He said simply and with resignation.

Claire was close to tears but chose to swallow them. They would not help Jamie and she did not want him to feel guilty because of her. He was stoic and so very brave. It was of little wonder that her son cared for him so. She too felt something similar.

He helped her take her seat again and smiled gratefully when she presented him with an entire meat pie wrapped in cloth. He was used to her charity and welcomed it on his near empty belly. 

“I bid you farewell Mistress Randall and hope that I may someday repay your kindness.”

“Don’t think that. I’m happy to treat you but I wish I didn’t have to. Please promise that you will be careful with Murchison. I don’t like to think of you getting hurt anymore.”

“I’ll do my best mistress.” He replied and watched the carriage go. In his mind he stored the sight of her for when he was in need of comfort. She truly was becoming a source of strength for him.

 

Tbc


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains parts of a chapter I wrote at the beginning but never incorporated into the story thus the first part takes place during Jamie’s time at Ardsmuir and the other part in America. I hope that it flows well. Next chapter we will find out what Jamie is doing to keep Randall at bay because he knows that the captain’s infatuation is still present.thank you for reading and responding.

****Then****

Happiness did not come easy to Randall.

Pleasure was more common and sometimes all he needed for that was simple imagination but tonight was different. Tonight his pleasure came at the cost of Jamie Fraser’s pain. Randall wouldn’t want it otherwise.

He’d tracked him down to Ardsmuir which was one of the harshest prisons that his majesty had assigned for the rebel Scots. It pleased him to think that Fraser was there. It pleased him even more to know that he’d been singled out for a particularly cruel imprisonment.

Jamie Fraser lived confined in a tiny cell of freezing stone which he was let out of just for a few minutes every week or so. The cell had no light and he was given no comfort besides an old blanket and a bucket to see to his needs. When the captain had learned of this it had brought him the most exquisite pleasure.

Randall has chosen not to see Jamie right away. It was much better to wait and think upon the man’s agony day after day. His life reduced to a meaningless pattern of loneliness and grief. Jamie had no purpose, no calling besides the pathos of his suffering. Randall had ensured that the Scotsman wouldn’t see the hangman’s noose but would instead endure a much crueler fate. He was happy knowing that Fraser likely wished he were dead each and every single day of his miserable life.

But one day the desire to see Fraser grew in him. He asked and was granted access to Ardsmuir. He did not much care for the young lord that served as the prison’s warden but appreciated his efforts where it concerned Jamie’s treatment. By the time Randall had come, Fraser’s spirit was nearly broken. 

Needless to say he was prime for the picking in Randall’s estimation. 

He asked for some time with the jailors assigned to Fraser. It was they who told him of the man’s violent first year when he would rave and rant and attack them at every opportunity he had. They had whipped him, deprived him of food and eventually he had calmed down enough to accept his reality.

So now Fraser was docile and very obedient. It was this Fraser that Randall wanted to savor. This sad creature that remained of the proud young warrior that had bested many a member of the king’s army. 

Jack Randall’s preferences were well known amongst his majesty’s but were kept under wraps by the very same. Many a blind eye was turned at the darker peculiarities of his character especially when it came to the treatment of Scottish prisoners. After all who really vouched for defeated men? Hence it was of no great matter when he focused his attentions on yet another poor soul.

The door to Jamie’s cell was made of grey wood and iron. The iron bar across it was very thick and when it fell it made the most dreadful sound. It was a sound to chill a man’s soul.

There was a small partition at the bottom of the door wide enough for Jamie’s tin bowl of porridge to be booted inside the cell. Randall marveled at the inedible state of the meal as it was passed on to the prisoner. The contents of the bowl being no more than burnt dregs but Jamie’s soft “Thank ye” was heard through the door when he received the food.

It was the voice that caught Randall’s attention, it was the melody of his thick highlands accent, it was his need to interact with his captors even though he would be ignored for it. Sweet like the finest nectar to the taste was Jamie’s loneliness.

In his mind’s eye, he saw the boy using his hands to spoon the noxious substance into his mouth. He was careful not to miss even a morsel in the pitch dark of his cell. Hungry for the only food he was given. Randall pressed a slim hand against the door. The aged wood was old but strong, more than capable of keeping a half-starved Scot trapped within its confines. Had Jamie tried prying the door open with his fists? Had he banged on the wood incessantly pleading to be let out? Randall ventured to say that he had.

The guard looked on the Captain uneasily. Whatever Fraser was inspiring in him was not normal but he wasn’t one to question a superior. It was best to keep quiet and follow orders.

Randall stood there, mesmerized by the Highlander’s plight. Lost in the miasma of suffering. In a few days he would ask for him to be brought to him. He would order the guards to stop feeding him to make just that more desperate. Then he would have him.

Jamie would be his.

 

************Now***************

 

Years had passed since those days at Ardsmuir prison when he had indulged his baser desires but it hadn’t been enough. He still craved the Scotsman. He still wanted to see him broken and alone.

But he wasn’t alone anymore was he?

It had taken him far to long to track him down first to Murchison and then to Claire. The fact that the man had ended up with his cousin’s widow did not escape him. It was as if fate had wanted to link their lives once more.

Claire was of no consequence and neither was their child. Fraser was his to have, to hurt and to break. It had him taken him years to find him and nothing would hinder Randall in claiming what belonged to him.

He had to be careful and pretend he knew nothing of Fraser. Let Claire think that their meeting had been a coincidence and not a carefully prepared plan. He would strike when he was ready and take possession of the Scotsman once more.

 

***********Claire and Jamie*************

In the little apartment over the apothecary Jamie and Claire were standing before their bed. A half full pack sat on top of the quilt and Jamie’s clothes lay strewn about the small room. An air of sadness had settled upon the pair at their imminent separation.

They had not been apart for even one night since Jamie had come into her home bearing his chains and his scars. Together they had made a home from which he never wanted to leave but now he was called to do so. It was tearing him inside.

“Ah Dhia, that I would not see you and the bairns.” Jamie said quietly as he laid out his best coat. It was still fairly warm but neither he nor Claire knew how long he would be away so it was best that he took it with him. 

Claire blinked away her tears as she folded his stockings in his bag. “ I know my love but think that we shall be together again some day and then no one will ever take you from us.”

His arms wrapped around her and she laid her head on his chest. She smelled wonderful and he took a deep breath commenting the scent to memory. “I dream of such a day when I can finally have you as my wife before God and man. T’is the only thing that keeps me moving forward when all I want to do is cry at the loss of ye mo chridhe.”

She kissed him gently. His lips were soft and welcoming. They had but a few hours left but she couldn’t help but pull at the ties in his shirt, aching for the feel of his bare skin against hers. Jamie was never one to deny his lady and quickly shed his clothing standing before her nude and wanting.

Claire removed her shift and heard the familiar catch in his breath at seeing her body. Even after all this time, Jamie still felt the wonder of having her by his side. The miracle of his beautiful mistress falling in love with her sad and lonely slave. 

Their lovemaking had a frantic ardor knowing that it would be the last time they lay together for a long while. He was passionate and she responded in kind tracing her love unto to his scarred body. They climaxed together, both muffling their cries into each other’s skin.

*-*-*-*-

Dawn came too soon and Jamie dressed quietly while Claire secured the last minute necessities in his pack. He was somber as he kissed his youngest child goodbye. Willie was still sleepy but he clung to his Da.

“Be brave my laddie. Listen to yer mam and brother. Dinna get into too much mischief.”

“Daddy don’t go.” The young boy said plaintively.

Jamie smiled and kissed the boy on the tip of his nose. “I have to my wee one but I willna be gone for very long. “

Willie sniffed but remained stoic as Jamie and Fergus hugged. The young man was doing his best not to cry like his brother. With Jamie gone he would have to be the man of the house and protect his family. It wouldn’t do for them to see him cry.

At last he was ready and kissed his lady goodbye. The promise of their eventual reunion in their embrace. With one last image of his family, Jamie stepped onto the still somber morning and walked towards an unknown future. His heart was broken once more.

TBC

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [“To Ransom a Man’s Soul”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12949314) by [Cantrix_grisea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantrix_grisea/pseuds/Cantrix_grisea)




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